THE LAST BOY SCOUT
Bang bang bang
Down you go
It's just a job I do
Just a Job to Do
You wanna be a detective? Here's what you
do: Take a trusted friend, and imagine the
worst thing, the most despicable thing, the
thing it would never even cross their minds
to do. Then assume they've already done it
Joseph R. Hallenbeck
When you consider that a career in pro foot-
ball means maybe ten years, after which you
got no legs left, and during which you're a
painkiller drug addict, a million a year
sounds about right. So when people bitch
at me about the money I made, I have a pat
response: Go fuck yourself.
James Alexander Dix
THE LAST BOY SCOUT
INT. DARK BEDROOM
The only light, that of a flickering TV screen.
A big MAN lies, shirtless, on the bed.
Watching a sports program. We hear:
SPORTS FIGURE (V.O.)
Eliminating the draft? Worst
thing ever happened to pro
football. Already you got Eric
Dickerson, no team's good enough
for him... You got Dion Sanders,
this guy, Bosworth, bunch of
peacocks. Nagurski, I saw him
play for 25 bucks a game. And he
woulda played for free, you get
me? He loved the game. Nowadays?
Forget about it.
The TELEPHONE SHRILLS in the stillness.
The Man On the Bed answers it. Speaks haltingly.
MAN ON BED
Hello, Billy. Do you know who
Kid from Ohio is looking real
The Man's hand unclenches. A container of pills spills
over the blanket. He stammers:
MAN ON BED
I'm... I'm gonna... try real
No, Billy. What you're gonna do
... is rush for 150 yards against
MAN ON BED
That's... too much. I can't...
You can. And you will. This is a
business, Billy. You don't make
one fifty, you're history, the kid
steps in. No more job... and no
more pills, Billy.
MAN ON BED
Please... Just give me time...
One hundred and fifty yards.
The PHONE CLICKS off. NFL running back Billy Cole stares
straight ahead, mouth working spastically.
AERIAL SHOT - SNOWSTORM
OVER Chicago, Illinois, as the CAMERA SPIRALS DOWN TOWARD
a teeming football stadium. We hear crowd noise and
marching band music, deafeningly loud, as we SUPERIMPOSE
SOLDIER FIELD, CHICAGO NOVEMBER 14
INT. ANNOUNCER'S BOOTH
The BROADCAST TEAM huddles inside the quilted jackets,
squinting through the snow. Speaking into headset mikes.
Good afternoon and welcome to
Soldier Field, Chicago, site of
today's confrontation between the
L.A. Stallions and the Chicago
Bears. This is Vern Lindquist
with Terry Bradshaw, and, yes, my
friends, it is that cold.
INT. LOCKER ROOM - SAME TIME
Billy Cole sits, alone, in front of his locker.
Eyes glazed. Face bathed in sweat.
He takes a bottle of pills from the locker. Pops three.
Hisses a stream of air through his teeth as we --
EXT. FOOTBALL FIELD - DAY (FOURTH QUARTER)
A deafening CRUNCH as a defensive back hammers a wide
receiver, nearly decapitates him. The ball rolls free.
The back recovers it.
... Big Ray Walton puts a
devastating hit on Bricmont, so
Chicago turns over the ball with a
minute and forty seconds left.
EXT. SIDELINES - SAME TIME
The injured player goes by on a stretcher, moaning.
Cheerleaders jump and frolic.
gets up off the bench. The rest of the offensive unit
sprints onto the field. Cole walks. Straight ahead,
eyes front. Like a robot. His HEARTBEAT THUDS on the
COLOR MAN (V.O.)
And so L.A. has a chance to ice
the game, no pun intended... And
you gotta be thinking, give the
ball to Billy Cole. He has had an
outstanding day, racking up 138
yards against a tough defense.
DOWN ON FIELD
The huddle breaks.
The L.A. team trudges through the snow to the line of
Cole adopts a three-point stance.
Everything happens in hyper-real SLOW MOTION:
The snow falls. The receivers breeze past, in motion to
begin their patterns. Moving like gazelles.
Cole's fingers paw the cold earth. Gouging it.
He is like a spring. Coiled and ready.
The ball is snapped.
Turf and snow. Erupting.
A firecracker series of POPS as linemen collide.
The ball floats through the snowy air. Pitch-out to
He takes it on the run. Tucks it under his arm.
Behind him, the quarterback bites the dust, leveled.
Cole turns the corner. Picks up a blocker.
Feet pounding. Arms pumping.
Up ahead, the free safety barrels toward him. Low and
Cole does not blink. He reaches beneath his jersey.
Pulls out a GUN.
Pumps THREE SHOTS into the free safety's head.
The bullets go straight through. On the back of his
A mixture of blood and fiberglass.
Cole keeps going, jogging for the end zone.
Around him, sound. Fury. Impact. Confusion.
Another defensive back. Straight ahead.
Reacts with almost comical terror. Dives to one side.
Cole FIRES. Blows out the guy's knee. Ends a career.
We are now in full-scale panic.
The players are fleeing the field. Shouts. Pandemonium.
A few brave men gather around the fallen players.
are on the field now. Running full out. They've got
riot guns, cocked and locked. Sprinting through the
Cole crosses the goal line. Touchdown.
Drops the ball.
Turns, facing the cops. His eyes are insane.
The crowd is screaming. People are running back and
forth like extras in the Keystone Cops.
The first TWO BLASTS from the cops' RIOT GUNS go high and
wide. One SHOT BLOWS APART the base of the goalpost.
The forty-foot-high monument pitches over, collapsing
like a wounded giant. Lands in a shower of snow and ice.
Cole is oblivious to the bars crashing around him. He
smiles and says:
I'm going to Disneyland...
Puts the GUN to his helmet. FIRES.
EXT. L.A. STREET - IN SHADOW OF FREEWAY - MORNING
We SUPERIMPOSE the legend:
WEST LOS ANGELES, CALIFORNIA DECEMBER 20
Good morning, Mr. and Mrs. America, and all the ships at
sea. Welcome to another lackluster morning in Southern
California. Palm trees limp. Windless silence. 80
degrees at 8:00 AM.
CAMERA CRANES DOWN PAST a huge, rotting billboard. On
the billboard, a girl in tight jeans. Grabbing her own
butt. A surprised look on her face. Yes, honey, that's
MOVE IN ON a tiny, weather-beaten bungalow. In the
shadow of the 405 Freeway. A shingle hangs from a
wrought iron post: JOSEPH R. HALLENBECK, CONFIDENTIAL
On the lawn, a late-model Plymouth.
The sprinkers come to life. Fling water across the car.
Inside the car, a lone man is asleep, arms akimbo.
Sprawled across the seat. Half-empty bottle of Seagrams
V.O. RADIO on, playing tinny JAZZ music.
Picture the tiredest, meanest, grouchiest son of a bitch
self-hating loser you can.
Now give him a two-year-old suit from C & R Clothing.
Such is the aforementioned HALLENBECK.
THREE neighborhood KIDS have gathered around the car.
Enjoying the spectacle of a sleeping drunk.
One tosses a baseball from hand to hand. One picks his
Shit, we should do something to
Kid #3 continues mining for nose eggs. It looks like his
entire fist is up there. Pause, then:
I know where there's a dead
ANOTHER ANGLE - BUNDLE OF PAPER TOWELS - SOME MINUTES
with a tail sticking out.
The youngest Kid holds it aloft reverently.
Looks in the open car window at Hallenbeck.
Still snoozing. Dead to the world.
They heave the squirrel into the car and run away.
A pause. Another pause. The sprinkler goes round.
Hallenbeck snores. The mashed squirrel perches on his
chest. A shadow falls across him as --
return, scratching their heads. Staring in at him.
Goddamn. Dude's trashed.
Take his bottle.
Kid #1 smiles nervously. Reaches in with infinite
Trembling hand inches closer and closer --
And closes on the bottle as, without warning --
sits bolt upright and grabs the Kid and stuffs a .38
revolver in the Kid's face and cocks it.
The Kid, of course, shrieks.
And the light of sanity dawns in Hallenbeck's eyes.
He sucks in a deep breath. Releases the struggling Kid.
Swears under his breath. Watches the boys flee in
terror. Notices a dead squirrel in his lap. Scowls.
Heaves it out the window. Pumps a Camel into his mouth.
Lights it. Rescues the bottle of Seagrams.
Thus begins his morning.
He opens the car door. The sprinkler douses him.
He gets out. Stands on the lawn.
One of the Kids, the toughest one, is standing on the
I'm not scared.
You're on my property, kid.
Sidewalk belongs to the
Hallenbeck stares at him. Smiles weakly.
He leans over and vomits on the lawn.
One hand gripping the car fender.
The sprinkler goes round and round.
EXT. MALIBU BEACH FRONT - MORNING
A redwood beach house, mellow in the morning sun.
There was a party here last night.
Banners. Balloons and streamers. Tawdry in the light of
INT. BEACH HOUSE - SAME TIME
A plush bedroom. Sun streams in the window.
A YOUNG MAN sits, straddling a backwards chair. Bare-
foot, bare-chested. Blond hair, perfect tan.
He is nursing a beer. Smoking and staring at --
where a tawny golden girl lies, serene and innocent.
Like a sleeping kitten. Rumpled sheets, one breast
exposed. No tan line.
The man takes a drag off the cigarette, studies the
sleeping girl. Meet Jimmy Dix. Twenty-seven years old,
former National League heartthrob.
He shakes his head and mutters:
JIMMY (YOUNG MAN)
Jesus, kid, if only you weren't so
He gets up and goes into the head. Pulls out a glass
vial. Dips a coke spoon with practiced ease. Sucks it
up a nostril.
For one moment, he catches his own eye in the mirror.
FLASH CUT TO:
FLASHBACK - FOOTBALL FIELD
Seventy thousand people screaming.
Jimmy in the middle. Younger Jimmy. Fresher Jimmy.
It's a night game at the Coliseum. He's the quarterback.
The snap. Jimmy fakes the draw. Rolls right. Around
him, all is impact. Sound and fury.
He targets a receiver and unleashes a rocket. Sixty-
yard toss, hits the guy between the numbers.
Covered with dirt and mud. Blood, too.
Young and proud. Seventy thousand voices tell him he's
alive. He makes a difference.
BACK TO PRESENT
Alone in the bathroom... leaning on the counter. Head
down. A voice calls softly from the bedroom:
SLEEPY VOICE (O.S.)
Jimmy, are you still here...?
I don't know.
He looks up at his reflection. Glazed eyes, beard
stubble. Crows' feet around the eyes.
Yeah. I guess I am.
He sniffs, clearing his nose.
INT. WEST L.A. BUNGALOW - MORNING
Hallenbeck opens the door and shambles in.
Dark. Depressing. Sprawl of furniture. Stack after
stack of sports magazines. Drop all your belongings out
of a plane. They will land like this.
He flicks on the light. Crosses to the couch and flops
down. Plucks a bottle of aspirin from an end table.
Next to the bottle, we see --
TWO FRAMED PHOTOGRAPHS
side by side. In one, younger Hallenbeck is kissing
younger bride. Smiling.
In the other, the President of the United States presents
Hallenbeck with a medal. They are both smiling beneath
the Presidential Seal.
BACK TO SCENE
Hallenbeck scowls and chews three aspirin. Swallows.
The PHONE RINGS. He groans. Chain-lights another smoke,
stubs out his old one. Chins the receiver and says:
Hey, Joe, Mike Miller over at
Swerdlow. You got a minute?
Mmmmm? What's mmmmm? Jeez, you
sound fucking terrific. What'd
you do last night?
Sat in the car. Looked at the sky.
I killed a squirrel and don't even
That's bad, Joe.
Tell me about it. Look, I crawled
out of a perfectly good bottle to
answer the phone, what the fuck do
Still takin' charity?
No pride here. What'cha got?
Stripper in West Hollywood. Lives
alone. Very hot. A three on my
finger scale. Means I'd cut off
three of my fingers if God would
let me sleep with her.
Make her a one on your nose scale.
Improve your looks.
Eat me. Deal is this: She's got
a psycho, threatens her over the
phone. I'm gonna rape you, cut
you, the usual crap.
MALE (V.O.) (CONT'D)
She thinks he's following her.
I'm up to here, you got plans?
I was gonna smoke some cigarettes.
Can you postpone?
These are really good cigarettes.
She goes onstage at seven. It's
two hundred bucks, Joe.
Gimmee the address.
Terrific. And, Joe, big favor,
okay? Try to... fix yourself up,
if you can manage it. Look the
part. Not like the last time,
Hallenbeck catches his reflection in the mirror over
the TV. His face is ashen grey. Hollow eye sockets.
Gimmee the address.
EXT. BUNGALOW - MORNING
Hallenbeck emerges into the blinding glare. His tie is
crooked. His cuffs are too short. He looks like a
He looks up at the girl on the billboard.
Gorgeous does not respond: Coy. Very coy.
Hallenbeck slides behind the wheel of his Plymouth. KEYS
the IGNITION. Phil Woods' SAXOPHONE fills the air. He
looks at himself in the mirror.
Nobody likes you. Everybody hates
you. You're an asshole and you're
stupid. You're gonna lose.
Smile, you fuck.
He stretches his mouth into a grimace.
Pulls out into the street. Off he goes.
INT. MALIBU BEACH HOUSE - MORNING
Jimmy Dix leaves the bedroom. Pads barefoot down a hall
littered with beer cans, food wrappers. A sleeping guy.
Stops at a door, peeks in: all-night poker game in
progress. Four bleary-eyed men. Unshaven. Stack of
wrinkled money on a card table.
They all grunt. One of them, name of HENRY, looks up at
him. Holds out a half-smoked doobie:
Hey, Jimmy. You want some of
No, man. Why do you think they
call it dope?
Henry, did I do anything last night
that I should know about?
You puked a couple times. Pointed
at some lady's tits. Chased a dog
for a half an hour. Fucked a
congressman's daughter, shit on
No, man, I meant something bad,
that I should know about.
My ass hurts, I think I had gay
sex last night. I don't remember.
When are you gonna come look at
my gun collection?
One of the other PLAYERS looks up, says:
Are you Jimmy Dix? Played for the
'86 and '87, that was me.
Hell, I think the league gave you
a raw deal.
Thanks. What the hell, shit
floats. I'll be back.
I hope so.
I'll be back.
Everyone plays cards. No one looks at him. He frowns.
INT. LIVING ROOM - MINUTES LATER
Jimmy is seated in the devastated living room. Putting
on shoes. He hears a COMMOTION outside: A woman scream-
ing. Water splashing. He frowns, puzzled. Gets up.
Pads out onto a redwood deck.
EXT. REDWOOD DECK - SAME
A six-foot behemoth is seated in a jacuzzi at the far end
of the deck. He is dunking a terrified female head under
the water and laughing.
Jimmy clears his throat.
The MAN looks up, annoyed.
What the fuck you want, Jimmy?
What's with the girl?
She surfaces, sputtering and screaming. Ray thrusts her
beneath the surface again.
Bitch won't blow me.
Too early in the morning, Ray.
Let her go.
Fuck you. She's not coming up
till she starts blowing.
Jimmy swallows hard. Says:
Ray. Let her go.
Fuck you, loser. What are you doing
at a league party, asshole? You and
ol' Dex Manley should get together,
swap stories about gettin' booted.
Jimmy controls himself with an effort.
Ray, she's gonna drown.
Not if she blows me.
Jimmy's eyes are smoldering. He steps to the right.
Casually scoops up a football lying on the deck.
Last chance, Ray.
Jimmy turns, as if to walk away.
Instead, he spins back and launches the football.
It sings, that's how hard he throws it. And when it
smacks Ray in the face, something breaks. It ain't the
The big man howls. Clutching his flattened nose.
The girl comes up for air. Gagging and choking.
Jimmy is at her side instantly. Pulls her out of the
Get out of here. Go.
She goes. He leans over and grabs Ray by the hair.
The guy is bleeding. Delirious.
Jimmy yanks until their faces are inches apart.
Best arm in the National League,
you son of a bitch. Remember that.
He lets go. Ray sags, semi-conscious.
The poker players come running as Jimmy walks back inside.
EXT. COAST HIGHWAY - DAY
Jimmy gets into the car. Takes out his vial.
Spoons some powder, sucks it up.
A voice in the background: "Hey, someone shit on my car!"
EXT. SUBURBAN NEIGHBORHOOD - DAY
Joe Hallenbeck slides his Plymouth to the curb in front
of a cozy stucco dwelling. Gets out, crosses the lawn.
A fat NEIGHBOR is watering shrubs next door. He waves.
'Morning, Joe, how's it going?
My ears are burning, Andy. Even
as we speak, someone, somewhere is
calling me an asshole.
I'm playing Tahoe on the 15th.
INT. HALLENBECK'S HOUSE - SAME TIME
Hallenbeck enters and crosses the living room.
A woman, forty-ish, once beautiful, appears in the bedroom
doorway. Wearing a terry cloth robe. This is Joe's wife
I thought you were in Las Vegas.
Where did you sleep?
He brushes past her and crosses to the bed. On the pillow,
a big stuffed cat toy smiles benignly.
Hey, Furry Tom.
He sits on the bed. Lights a cigarette. Opens the night
stand and removes a speedloader for his .38. Starts to
load the gun.
How much did you lose?
I wasn't there to gamble. I was
doing a skip trace.
How much did you lose?
He suddenly notices a sheet of paper on the night stand.
A crayon sketch. He picks it up, frowns:
Darian's class drew holiday
pictures. That was hers. Her
teacher wants to see us, Joe.
CLOSE ON DRAWING
It's a picture of Santa Claus, except this Santa has long,
stringy hair, bloodshot eyes, and grotesque talons. A
little girl's severed head is clutched in one hand.
Underneath, in block capitals, is written: SATAN CLAUS.
BACK TO SCENE
Satan Claus. Kid's got some talent,
don't you think?
Her voice is ice cold. Joe turns and regards her levelly.
You okay, Sarah...?
I'm tense. I couldn't get to
sleep last night.
Hmmmm. Well, I think the kid
will be fine. Boys still tease
her about the headgear?
Are you kidding? Brace Face, that's
the latest. Little bastards.
(under his breath)
She'll be fucking them by the
time she's fourteen.
Watch your Goddamn mouth, Joe.
Well, Christ, you let her wear
enough makeup. The kid looks like
a goddamn raccoon. She comes in
late at night, I think, 'Christ,
a burglar.' I almost shot her
You're not funny. All the girls
at that school wear makeup.
Yeah, but they don't apply it with
a paint sprayer. And for your
information, our neighbors think
I'm very funny.
Go live with them.
Don't tempt me.
He tosses the holstered .38 on the bed. Stalks into
He sighs, tosses his cigarette butt in the toilet.
Walks back out into the bedroom.
He kneels, looks under the bed.
Straightens and says, very conversationally:
Who's the guy in the closet?
Sarah stops dead. Spins and stares at him.
Oh, that's right, you sometimes
forget that I'm a detective.
(lights a cigarette)
See, first I noticed how tense you
were, but I let that pass. Then
I noticed there was steam in the
shower like someone was just in
there, but meanwhile your hair is
completely dry, you follow? So.
Why the steamy shower?
Because someone else was in there,
right, and since he's not under
the bed you must have stuck him in
the closet when you heard my key in
the door a day early. Tah-dah.
Please, no applause.
A silence hangs between them. Sarah just stares. Shakes
Well, nothing changes. You're
still a lunatic.
Mmmmm. I'm sorry, honey, I don't
enjoy being observant, but someone's
gotta do it.
What's his name?
Please leave. I have to get dressed.
It's okay, I've seen you naked. So,
apparently, has someone else. What's
You want me to open the closet, Joe?
Huh? You want me to indulge your
fucking paranoia, I'll throw the
door open, is that what you want me
Is this a trick question?
I'll do it, Joe. Okay? And then
we'll both know you're a psycho,
is that what you want? Huh??
An awkward pause. Finally Hallenbeck scowls and says:
No. We won't open the door.
Nope. Door stays shut. Instead,
what I'm gonna do is...
(he scoops up the
... I'm gonna count to three, and
then I'm gonna put a bullet in
there, and you can stop me anytime
by speaking the truth. One.
If you shoot up my house, Joe, I
will make you eat that gun.
Two. The truth is a beautiful
He cocks the hammer. Arm extended, hand rock steady.
Call your shrink, Joe. I still
have the number. Call him and tell
him you're losing it, I cannot
fucking deal with you like this -- !
Three. Last chance.
Joe, dammit -- !
He sighs. Starts to pull the trigger. And Sarah
Jesus, no -- !
And grabs the gun.
Everything freezes. She looks at him. He looks at her.
swings slowly open, then...
And out steps a man in a bathrobe.
Compact. Wiry. Hair still soaking wet.
None other than MIKE MILLER, Joe's early morning phone call.
We know this because Joe says:
Hello, Mike. Keeping her warm
The gun barrel does not waver. Not an inch.
Easy, Joe. Don't do nothing dumb.
How as she, Mike? On your finger
scale, how was my wife...?
It just happened, Joe. It just
You call me from here this morning?
She said you were in Vegas. I was
gonna leave a message on the machine.
When you found out I was back. Why
didn't you split?
She said relax, he never stops home
once he's in the office.
Normally I wouldn't.
(stares at him)
I suspected. So how about it, Mike?
On a scale of one to ten. How was
Joe, come on, how long we been
How long? Mmm. I'd say roughly
until you put your dick in my
You gotta understand --
I know, I know, it just happened.
It was an accident. Sure. You
tripped. You said, 'Whoops,' and
accidentally fucked my wife. Gee,
Mrs. H., I'm sorry, just isn't my
week. Sure, Mike. Happen to
I don't gotta understand anything.
Sarah speaks then. Head down. Eyes averted.
Put the gun down.
Hmmm? Oh, right, the gun.
You're right, Sarah, I'm acting nuts.
He pulls the trigger.
The SHOT is DEAFENING in the closed room.
Mike Miller screams and clutches at himself.
The bullet goes high and wide. Over his head.
On the wall is a framed wedding photo. The twin of the
one in Hallenbeck's office. The bullet strikes it dead
Blows it to pieces.
Silence. The tinkle of glass hitting the floor.
Hallenbeck turns. Regards his wife with hooded, lifeless
Where was Darian?
She stayed at Cindy's last night.
He nods. Turns and waves the gun at Miller.
Let's take a walk, Buddy.
EXT. SUBURBAN STREET - DAY
The two men come out the back door and cut through the
Miller's car, a Pontiac Sunbird, is parked at the curb.
Hallenbeck stops in the middle of someone's yard.
Holsters his gun.
A neighbor's dog approaches, happily wagging its tail.
Hallenbeck bends and ruffles its fur.
Where you want it, Mike? Head
Listen, Joe, I --
Hallenbeck pats the dog. Straightens. Plants his back
foot and spins. Punches like a sledgehammer, into Miller's
Miller drops to his knees. Begins to retch.
Hallenbeck takes out a cigarette. Lights it.
If I see you again, I'll kill
Miller nods weakly. Gasping for breath.
So. West Hollywood at seven, right?
The job. Seven o'clock, right?
You still... want the job...?
It's two hundred bucks.
Yeah. I guess it is.
He climbs to his feet, still doubled over.
I'm sorry, Joe.
Hallenbeck says nothing. Miller turns and stumbles to
his car. Hallenbeck's face betrays nothing. A dead mask.
He walks back toward the hedge.
The neighbor's dog runs up, a tennis ball in its mouth.
Behind him, Mike Miller gets into the Sunbird.
Hallenbeck takes the tennis ball. Throws it.
The DOG BARKS and bounds after it.
Mike Miller turns the key in the ignition.
The CAR BLOWS to pieces.
An ERUPTION OF FLAME.
Flying glass and metal. The car becomes airborne.
Engulfed in fire. Does a lazy spin. Comes down.
The shockwave catches Hallenbeck. Slams him ass over
Windows blow in up and down the street.
Smoke and fire roll to the sky.
The DOG cowers, HOWLING in fear.
Beside it on the grass, the tennis ball is on fire.
Hallenbeck rolls to his feet. Covered with twigs and
leaves. Clothing scorched. Stares. Eyes glazed.
EXT. SUBURBAN STREET - AN HOUR LATER
A mobile crane hoists what's left of Mike Miller and his
Pontiac. Policemen direct traffic, curb bystanders.
OFF TO ONE SIDE
a UNIFORM COP questions Hallenbeck and Sarah, who stand
stiffly. Not looking at each other.
Why did Mr. Miller visit your home
this morning, Mr. Hallenbeck?
Joe lies easily:
He came by to talk business. He
had a case he was to busy to continue
with, a routine surveillance. He
farmed it out to me.
I see. Is that all you talked
Yeah. That's all.
He looks the Officer in the eye. Betrays nothing.
NAKED, GYRATING BODY
Female, for the record. Signaling us that we are now:
INT. "BOTTOMLESS PIT" CLUB - NIGHT
Rowdy strip club in West Hollywood. Just like the name
suggests; if it's a virus, you're sitting on it. After
three drinks, every girl on stage looks like your high
school sweetheart. Was your sweetheart fat? Did she
have excessive body hair?
FUNK MUSIC, played LOUD. The Monday crowd stomps and
claps. Onstage a stripper grinds away with an enthusiasm
usually reserved for standing in line at the DMV.
Jimmy Dix sits at the bar, hooting and whistling. Behind
the bar, a black man in a wheelchair serves drinks. His
name is HARP.
Off to one side, a twenty-five-year-old BEANPOLE speaks
into a microphone:
Flash of green buys a flash of
pink, gentlemen. So reach into
your pockets if you aren't there
already, and reward the lovely
and talented Ms. Vixen...!
The black man shakes his head.
My son. He writes his own
material, he's proud of that. Some
people are proud, they cured
leukemia. Old guy stops beating
off long enough to laugh, my son
thinks he's Eddie Murphy.
Jimmy uncaps a beer and raises it in a toast.
Alex the astronaut.
Harp raises his own glass.
Alex the astronaut.
It seems to be a common ritual between them. Jimmy
drinks, thumps the bottle down. Says, resolutely:
I've had it, Harp.
It, man. I've had it.
(takes a swig)
I don't remember what I did last
night. I'm an idiot, Harp, I act
like a complete dickhead. I don't
have friends. I drink too much.
I fuck anything that's warm and
Stay on that side of the bar.
I cheated on my girl friend again.
You cheated on her? You must be
Maybe so, Harp. Maybe so.
His gaze wanders across the crowded room, fixating on --
Who makes her way between the tables. She is beautiful.
Stands out like a teamster at a gay rights rally. Supple
body. Deep green eyes. Flaxen hair. Her name is CORY.
She stops at a table against the wall. Puts down a
Seagrams V.O. in a rocks glass.
Seated at the table is a broad-shouldered man in a bad
suit. The essence of boredom. Looks like he's been
there three days. A cloud of smoke hangs around his
head. Mr. Joe Hallenbeck, no less.
The police won't help you, huh?
Sure. After I'm dead they'll
perform the autopsy.
Guess you don't want to wait that
They only play this kind of music?
What did you expect?
Pat Boone? The Four Freshmen?
What are you, my father?
Yes, I'm your father. Get your
I hate this funk shit. It's gonna
be an extra hundred bucks.
You're hilarious. Sit next to
the speaker, you'll get used to
it. After a while you'll be
screaming play that funky music
The screaming part I believe.
She smiles and moves away.
Hallenbeck sips his drink. Scans the crowd with shrewd
The lovely Cory approaches Jimmy at the bar. Harp looks
Hello, handsome. How'd you like
to buy me a bottle of champagne?
How much for a bottle?
No thanks. Nothing personal, my
seventh grade teacher was killed
by a drunk driver.
Tall guy? Sandy hair?
That's the one.
I had to swerve three times to
So no bottle, then?
For forty bucks I'd rather drink
my own piss.
And with that, she leans over and moulds her lips to his.
Time passes. These two know each other, it would seem.
Cory pulls away. Jimmy smiles.
Hi, Cory. Rough night?
Arrgh. I've had it to here.
I'll bet you have.
She slaps his face. He feigns innocence. Points to
Who's the stiff?
I have to get ready to dance.
Come back soon. I want to buy
you a drink.
She smiles and moves off, swishingly. Jimmy watches her
go. His gaze wanders across the room to Hallenbeck. He
Near the stage, the would-be Eddie Murphy steps up to
the mike and says:
You know, crowd, these ladies are
fine, but let me tell you the three
reasons men prefer sheep: they're
always in the mood, they never
bitch, and after you fuck 'em you
can eat 'em.
A few chuckles. Some coughs. More coughs than chuckles.
And now, here's a lady that's
always in the mood, put your hands
together for the lovely and
talented Ms. Cory...!
Applause. A syncopated DRUM BEAT kicks in. AEROSMITH'S
LATEST erupts from the SPEAKERS.
And then she comes on.
And even Joe Hallenbeck must draw in a sharp breath.
Her body is exquisite. She moves like breath. Her eyes
can put you under. She is simply that beautiful.
sits with his drink untouched before him. Pats his
suit pockets, searching for a smoke. Removes a crumpled,
empty pack, as:
saunters up, looking less than friendly. He looks at
Hallenbeck. Hallenbeck does not look at him.
Hi. You're nobody.
Shhh. Don't tell anyone.
That's what Cory said. She said
you were nobody.
Only Hallenbeck's eyes move. He looks up, regards Jimmy
coolly. They size each other up. Hallenbeck sighs.
Easy, Junior, I'm not raining on
your parade. She's too young for
me. I'm just keeping an eye on
her for a few days.
I see. What are you, some kind
Something like that. You got a
No. Is Cory in trouble?
I hope not. You tell me.
She didn't mention anything to me.
Mmmm. That bothers you, doesn't it?
Don't sweat it. Women have secrets.
Water is wet, the sky is blue, and
women have secrets.
I'll buy you a beer. Sit down.
Jimmy remains standing.
She hired you, huh? What, you in
Yeah. Actually, she hired my buddy
Mike. I'm filling in.
Sorry to hear it.
Don't be. He was a lousy
Jimmy leans forward, palms flat on the table.
Look, friend, I don't know who you
are or what's going on. But Cory
is my girl friend and if she's in
trouble, I want to hear about it.
That's client confidential.
Tell me anyway.
I say two words to Cory and you
don't get paid, asshole.
You sure? I'm looking at your suit,
you could use the dough.
You don't like my suit, guess what?
I don't like your money.
Good, 'cause you're not getting any.
Story of my life.
Not getting any.
They stare each other down. Hallenbeck calmly sips his
You couldn't protect a cup of
Hit me. Bust me in the chops,
You're not afraid, are you, Jimmy...?
You know who I am?
James Alexander Dix, L.A. Stallions,
'86 and '87. Barred from the N.F.L.
on gambling charges. Allegations
of point shaving to support a
cocaine habit, never proven.
Busted once for possession. You
had the makings of a first class
Mister... You are now pissing me
About fucking time.
(extends his hand)
Joe Hallenbeck. I'm a private
(ignores the hand)
I don't know, Joe... You look like
a dumb wop to me.
At least I didn't shit my talent
away on coke, motherfucker.
Can I hit you now?
Jimmy throws a short jab at Hallenbeck's chin.
It never gets there.
Joe moves, lightning quick, and suddenly Jimmy's fist
is trapped. Dead stops. Fingers grinding into palm.
Jimmy swears. Stumbles. Sits down hard.
Hallenbeck releases him.
Please, have a seat.
You think you're some kind of hot
shit tough guy, huh?
It's not a question of tough. I'm
bigger than you, and I was trained.
So I can take you. That's just the
way it is. You can throw a better
How about that beer?
(signals the waitress)
You were a great quarterback, Jimmy.
I watched you play at Washington
State. Red shirt freshman in '82.
Followed you with the Stallions.
Good scrambling ability, seventy
percent completions from the
pocket... You had the best gun
in the N.F.L.
Jimmy looks at him, puzzled. Didn't they just swap
Yeah. Thanks. I guess.
Hell. I'm a fan.
ANGLE ON STAGE
Onstage, the MUSIC GRINDS TO a CLOSE as Cory dispenses
with the last of her clothing. Strikes a pose to wild
applause and we HOLD ON her radiant beauty and --
INT. DINGY DRESSING ROOM - NIGHT
Cory and Jimmy are engaged in very hot sex.
This is not a love scene; this is a sex scene.
Sigh. I'm not even going to attempt to write this
quote-unquote "steamy" scene here, for several good
A) The things that I find steamy are none of your damn
business, Jack, in addition to which --
B) The two actors involved will no doubt have wonderful,
highly athletic ideas which manage to elude most
fat-assed writers anyhow, and finally --
C) My mother reads this shit. So there.
(P.S.: I think we lost her back at the Jacuzzi blowjob
Suffice to say, they fog the screen.
At last, Jimmy rolls over and pours champagne into two
crystal glasses. Lifts one in a toast.
Alex the pediatrician.
Alex the pediatrician.
They drink. And from this blissful affirmation of life
INT. BACKSTAGE CORRIDOR - SAME TIME
Joe Hallenbeck is pounding an already-dented cigarette
machine. No dice. It has eaten his money. He shakes
his head, muttering.
Looks at his watch. Looks at the dressing room door.
Shakes his head again. Walks to the end of the corridor.
Goes through the fire door. Out into:
EXT. PARKING LOT - CONTINUOUS ACTION
Starry, moonlit night. A chill breeze. Joe draws a
In front of him, on the wall of the club, is a poster:
BAYNARD FOR SENATE, it reads. Above the logo, a picture
of a benevolent-looking gray-haired man.
Hallenbeck regards it balefully.
I didn't vote for you, you bastard.
He looks away, and suddenly notices something on the
A half-smoked cigarette butt.
Just sitting there.
Joe stares at it. Thinks it over.
Starts to walk away. Stops.
You're a fuckin' lowlife, Joe.
He bends to pick up the butt.
A steel sap whistles over his head, missing by inches.
Hallenbeck spins, startled. Reflexively lashes out with
a flattened palm. Misses, chops the air.
Two more men, behind him. Nowhere to go.
A sap pops him behind the left ear. A sickening thud.
The world spins out of focus. He goes down.
Hits the pavement like a ton of bricks.
Rolls over, staring up.
Vision muddy, indistinct.
Three silhouettes hover over him, backlit by streetlamps.
Their voices are fuzzy.
That's him. He was with her.
Shit, he's packing. What should
Get him away from here. Then kill
There's no contract for him.
Then do it for free. Just do it
The men disperse. One of them drags Joe to his feet.
A stocky, crag-faced man. He jams a silenced pistol
in Joe's kidney and points him toward a vacant lot
Start walking. I'm right behind
The two other Hitmen return to their gray, late-model
sedan. Climb into the car and sit, watching the
EXT. VACANT LOT - NIGHT
A rusty chain-link fence separates the lot from the boule-
vard. Choked with weeds. Broken glass. A rusted-out car.
A towering billboard looms overhead, inviting people to
drink Scotch or get laid, it's hard to tell.
Hallenbeck staggers drunkenly across the lot.
The crag-faced man follows behind him.
CRAG-FACE (HITMAN #2)
Wrong place at the wrong time,
buddy, that's all it is. Just
want you to know it's nothing
That's what you think. Last night
I fucked your wife.
The gunman cracks up. Hallenbeck grins drunkenly.
Oh, you did, huh? How'd you know
it was my wife?
She said her husband was a
greaseball with bad breath.
The guy cracks up again.
You're pretty cool for a guy gonna
take a bullet.
After fucking your wife, I'll take
The hitman wheezes laughter. Joe just grins.
You're a funny guy. It's a shame
to take you off. Here, kneel down.
Are you kidding? We barely know
The hitman is now giggling, shaking his head.
This is wild. I never shot no
funny guy before.
You need a special funny bullet.
Come on, cut it out. Head or chest?
That's what your wife said.
Would you quit with the wife?
Enough is enough.
Ask me how fat she is.
How fat is she?
She's so fat I had to roll her in
flour and look for the wet spot.
You wanna fuck her, you gotta slap
her thigh and ride the wave in.
(the hitman loses it)
Like the Pillsbury doughboy, except
when you poke her in the stomach,
she farts. I got a buddy he's an
archaeologist, organized an
expedition to her chin. They got
lost in her nasal hair. But
seriously, her eyes are like the
streets of Paris: crossed.
They're so crossed when she cries
the tears run down her back.
She's got back-tearia.
(can't stop laughing)
Oh, that's awful. Buddy, you're a
fucking rio --
From a kneeling position, Hallenbeck flings a handful of
gravel at the man's eyes.
The man cries out. Stumbles backward.
And Hallenbeck moves like a coiled spring. Not drunk at
all. He takes the broken bottle he's been clutching and
cuts the guy's throat like a knife through butter.
The hitman stands with a shocked look on his face.
FIRES the GUN once, into the ground. Drops it from nerve-
less fingers. Stares at Hallenbeck, aghast.
Hallenbeck meets his gaze. A savage, feral gleam in his
And then some.
The guy pitches over dead.
Hallenbeck kneels beside him.
Retrieves his .38, holsters it. Slips the hitman's pistol
into his waistband.
I'm playing Tahoe on the 15th.
He takes off running.
EXT. STRIP CLUB - NIGHT
Cory and Jimmy emerge from the club into the parking lot.
She scans the area, shaking her head.
I can't believe it. The bastard
split on me.
I'm staying at a motel for a couple
days. Will you follow me?
He heads for his car.
The Hitmen wait in the darkened sedan.
Watching Jimmy and Cory.
The driver keys the ignition. Starts the car.
In his lap is an automatic rifle.
EXT. BOULEVARD - NIGHT
Joe Hallenbeck is running full out.
Headlong down the sidewalk. Gasping for breath.
He slams into a man. Knocks him flat. Groceries fly.
Joe doesn't care. He stumbles. Keeps going.
EXT. NIGHTTIME STREET - SAME TIME
Jimmy Dix is behind the wheel of a silver Jag.
Cory is driving a spanking new Ford Fiero.
Jimmy follows behind Cory, watchdogging. Humming with
JOE COCKER on the RADIO.
Cory comes to a red light. Pauses. Turns right onto a
Jimmy slows, pausing at the intersection.
passes Jimmy. Accelerating. ENGINE REVVING.
Jimmy only gets one glimpse into the passing car.
Everyone inside is armed to the teeth.
The SEDAN ROARS around the corner, cutting in front of
Oh God. This is a hit this is a
comes up behind Cory. Comes up fast.
Rams her car. Metal crumples. Meanwhile:
frantically floors the pedal of his Jag, pops the clutch
-- And stalls out.
He roars with anger.
Flings open the door.
Leaps out and runs forward, screaming:
Cory, get out of there!!
Too late. Cory is already out of her car, yelling:
Hey, can't you fucking drive??
Her eyes go wide with shock.
The Hitmen burst from their car. OPEN UP on full auto.
Cory is cut down. Blown backward over the hood of her
Ford. Flung to the street.
And without missing a beat, the Hitmen turn --
And OPEN FIRE on Jimmy.
He takes a running start.
Clears the hood of his Jag in a single leap.
BULLETS DICE the metal behind him.
He lands, hard. Sucks the ground. Huddled behind his
move toward him, triggering THREE SHOT BURSTS.
The kid is dead meat. Or so it seems until, without
charges into the intersection. Screaming bloody murder.
He's got a GUN in each fist, and both are BLAZING.
One Hitman dies immediately:
Dances like a puppet, racked by gunfire.
Bullets go through him. SHATTER the sedan's WINDSHIELD.
The second Hitman turns and OPENS UP on Hallenbeck.
Too late. Joe rolls behind a mailbox.
BULLETS chase him, blowing apart the metal box.
The Hitman swears. Turns, running for the sedan.
He knows when a getaway is in order.
Just one problem. He forgot about Jimmy Dix.
A SCREECH of TIRES.
As Jimmy's Jag slews around the corner, laying rubber.
Rockets toward the Hitman, pins him in its headlights --
The Hitman screams as Jimmy plows through him --
And CRUNCHES into the gray sedan.
Shatters the Hitman between the two cars...
And holy Christ, the guy's still alive.
Pinned like a butterfly, legs broken...
He raises his rifle, screaming.
Jimmy dives flat on the front seat. The WINDSHIELD ERUPTS.
The Hitman. Still pinned. Still screaming.
He FIRES SHOT AFTER SHOT into Jimmy's car.
Hallenbeck walks up behind him.
Puts a BULLET in his head. He stops screaming.
is still huddled on the front seat in a sea of broken
glass. Hallenbeck walks up, leans in the window.
(as Jimmy looks up)
Jimmy puts it in reverse. The car backs up.
Steam pouring from the crumpled hood.
The Hitman, now freed, collapses to the street.
Like a sack of flour.
Hallenbeck limps toward him, wheezing.
He stops as:
stands outside a door marked OFFICE.
Holding a pump action shotgun leveled at Hallenbeck.
Hallenbeck nods at the bodies in the street.
It's all over, compadre.
Get off my property, mister.
Sidewalk belongs to the government.
He turns and looks at Jimmy. The kid is in pain.
Staring at Cory's bullet-riddled body. Eyes glazed.
Hallenbeck says nothing. He crosses to the shattered
Hitman. Kneels down, fishes through the guy's coat
pockets. Comes up with a bloody pack of cigarettes.
Extracts one. Lights it.
SIRENS fill the air.
And Jimmy snaps out of it long enough to reach into his
coat -- Takes out the vial of coke. Ditches it.
Drops it down a sewer grating, out of sight.
No one sees him do it.
come SQUEALING up, flashers turning.
Surrounding Jimmy, who stands, head down and motionless --
And Joe, who smokes and looks at the moon.
INT. POLICE STATION - NIGHT
SERGEANT BENJAMIN BESSALO sits behind his desk, scanning
a stack of typed pages. A tired-looking cop named McCASKEY
lounges in the doorway. A Christmas tree in the corner
Through the glass window, we can see Hallenbeck and Jimmy
seated outside in the squad room proper. Bessalo stops
reading. Sniffs the air. Frowns:
Something stinks in here.
(widens his eyes)
My God, it's this statement!
He flings the paper onto his desk.
It's shit. Hallenbeck is hiding
How do you know?
I know how the bastard's mind works.
Every lie has eighty percent truth
to it. Guy scares me.
McCaskey is staring out the window at Hallenbeck.
We lookin' at the same guy?
Go ahead. Tell me what you see.
I see a guy, looks like he just
slept in his suit.
Yep. That's what most people see.
Oh, yeah. There's more.
A long time ago, that son of a bitch
saved the President's life.
INT. SQUAD ROOM - SAME TIME
Outside the office Hallenbeck and Jimmy are perched side
by side on a wooden bench. Jimmy is crumpling pieces of
paper and tossing them at a wastebasket. He throws with
unerring accuracy. Beside him Hallenbeck frowns, deep in
thought. Finally, Jimmy speaks:
That stuff Cory fed you about a
weirdo hassling her. That was all
bullshit, wasn't it...?
Yeah. I don't know what she was
into, but those were professional
hitters tonight. Mob style.
Tell me about Cory. What was she
None of your fucking business.
Listen up, friend. I'm trying to
get a handle on this. How was she
fixed for money?
I don't know. Pretty strapped, I
Always kept an eye out for work?
No hooking, if that's what you mean.
It isn't. Tell me what she did at
the club, besides dance.
The usual. Waitressing. Get a guy
to buy you a bottle of champagne.
Sit in a private booth, let the
poor fuck spill his troubles. Used
to say she'd make a great psychiatrist.
She get many high rollers?
Sure. Even rich guys get lonely.
So suppose one night, her 'guest'
gets a little too drunk, and brags
to her... reveals something about
himself. Something that could hurt
if it came out. What would she do?
I don't get it.
Would she blackmail him?
Jesus, I've had about enough of you --
Would she consider the possibility of
She'd consider it. If she could
get away with it. But she'd need
hard evidence. Otherwise, it's
'I never said that,' his word
Right. So what does she do?
I don't know. Follow the guy? Have
Bingo. Kid, this is making sense.
She hires somebody to follow the
mark and obtain blackmail evidence.
Who does she hire?
Ah. She hires my buddy Mike.
Right? Right. It makes sense.
Except you told me that Mike was a
shitty surveillance man.
Exactly. He got spotted. They
made him, and they killed him.
Then they took out Cory.
Christ, what did the two of them
Whatever it was, it was way over
their heads. They knew they were
How you figure?
Because Mike was scared. He bailed
out and threw the case in my lap.
He handed it to you... without
telling you how dangerous it was?
Hallenbeck stares straight ahead. Sighs and says:
He was fucking my wife, Jimmy.
I die. He gets my wife.
Jimmy just looks at him.
At that moment, McCaskey pokes his head out of Bessalo's
Okay, you guys are cleared to go.
Pick up belongings at the property
INT. PROPERTY ROOM - NIGHT
Hallenbeck is collecting his firearm from the property
clerk. Jimmy lounges against the wall. Winks at a
hooker as she goes by in the hall, followed by a patrol
Jimmy eyes his rumpled trousers. Ripped shirt.
Shit. This shirt cost me eighty
(holsters his gun)
Glad to see, at a time like this,
at least you got your priorities
Do me a favor and shut up. You
think I don't care that Cory's
(rubs tired eyes)
Christ, I feel like I been rode
hard and put away wet.
Get some sleep.
Wow. What stunning advice. I was
gonna go hiking.
They start down the hallway, side by side.
You know something, Joe, for a
private eye, you sure don't go in
for snappy comebacks.
How's this? Fuck you and the
horse that looks like you.
Get some sleep.
A passing PATROLMAN stops. Eyes Jimmy thoughtfully.
You look real familiar. Do I know
Jimmy grins, shrugs. Obviously flattered.
You might. Some people recognize
Got it. Peanuts Morton. Used to
sell hash in Crenshaw District.
No, man. I played football.
Jimmy Dix, L.A. Stallions.
Fuckin' football. Free agents
ruined the damn game.
He walks away. Jimmy scowls. Grumbles to himself.
We gotta cross the parking lot.
You wanna borrow my sunglasses?
Hey, snappy comeback. You a
As the two cross the muster room toward the front doors,
they pass the hooker we saw earlier. She is talking to
There is a heated exchange. The pimp slaps her. Hard.
Suddenly, Jimmy lunges forward. Balling his fists.
That son of a bitch!
He's ready to clean the pimp's clock when Hallenbeck
grabs him, spins him bodily. Propels him out the front
Away from trouble.
EXT. POLICE STATION - NIGHT
What the fuck are you trying to
He hit the chick.
You don't start a fight in a
police station, dickhead. Are you
really this stupid or did you take
Guy shouldn't treat a woman like
that, is all I'm saying. He just
Why? Because they're weak and
He's serious. Hallenbeck starts to chuckle. Shakes his
head, lights a cigarette. Laughs through the smoke.
This may be the funniest thing he's ever heard.
EXT. POLICE IMPOUND LOT - SAME TIME
Hallenbeck walks across the parking lot toward his car.
Jimmy trots behind him.
Mind if I catch a ride with you?
My car's fucked up, remember?
Take the bus.
Cut it out. Look, you sorta saved
my life. Let me buy you a beer.
I'm not thirsty. Good night.
He approaches his battered Plymouth. Jimmy scowls.
That's it. Good night?
Go home. Get some sleep.
What are you gonna do?
I'm gonna get a message to the
people who killed your friend.
What's the message?
That we're out of it. That
whatever they're doing, they don't
have to worry about us.
Joe gets in the car. Says nothing.
You're backing off, you're not
gonna do anything? I watch T.V.,
what the fuck kind of private eye
doesn't do anything?
The kind with a wife and kid.
Look, it's over. My job is done.
Fuck you your job is done. We
witnessed a murder, Joe!
Yes, it was very exciting.
Tomorow I'll take you to the zoo.
You wanna play hero, go ahead.
When you die, I'll take your
closet full of eighty-dollar
Look, until this is over, I'm
sticking with you.
The hell you are.
I'm part of this. We do something,
we do it together.
Have a ncie night.
He STARTS the CAR.
Don't drive away, Joe.
Joe puts it in gear. Pulls away.
Joe -- ! I'll tell the cops, Joe.
Joe taps the brake. Stops. Leans out the window, says
Tell them what, Jimmy?
That Mike Miller was fucking your
Only reason you're not in the
cooler, tough guy, is the cops got
no motive for Miller's death.
When they find out Mikey was
dickin' your old lady, seems to
me you become suspect numero uno.
I'm scared, and I'm coming with
you, got it?
Joe gets out of the car and advances on Jimmy.
You little creep, I'm gonna beat
the shit out of you.
Go for it. Then the cops'll
really love my story.
You don't start a fight in a
police station, dickhead.
You and me is not a fight. You
and me is a massacre.
Gosh, you're tough.
Get in the fucking car.
INT. CAR - DRIVING - NIGHT
Hallenbeck is in a foul mood. Jimmy lights a cigarette
and applies for a position as pep chairman:
You got any hobbies?
Mmmm. Used to be a pretty fair
Ventriloquist, really? I hear Ps
and Bs are the hardest.
Yeah, well, actually --
Hey, you got any tapes in here?
Man, what is this shit? Dick
Haymes. Who the fuck is Dick
Haymes? Jeez, you must be older
than I thought.
Hallenbeck grimaces and shifts in his seat.
What's the matter? Stomach
What kind of ear problems?
The kind that won't shut up.
He stops at a traffic light. Sees a torn poster on a
nearby telephone pole: CALIFORNIA HAS A VOICE - BAYNARD
FOR SENATE. He grumbles. Gives it the finger.
Baynard, huh? What's the matter,
you got some kind of beef with the
You might say that.
You wanna share with the class?
Bastard got me fired from my old
Yeah? What were you, cop or
You're high. Get outta here.
Really...? You protected the man?
Holy shit, you musta got laid every
That's me. Every night.
Where did Cory live?
She had an apartment on the West
I want to check it out.
Jimmy stares at him, puzzled.
I thought you were off the case.
Look, dipshit, I told you that to
keep you out of my hair.
My client's dead and I haven't
earned my fee.
Whoa, back up. You mean, we're
gonna nail these fuckers after
Damn. I knew there was a hero
lurking beneath that gruff
Yeah, I'm a prince. Shut the fuck
EXT. ADULT LIVING COMPLEX - NIGHT
Jimmy and Hallenbeck make their way down a flagstone walk
between tiny, palm-shaded cottages. The moon casts a
Bet these places run a fortune.
Tell me about it. I'm paying the
How charming. Sounds like a great
girl. What else did you spring
for? Clothes? Car payments?
Wasn't like that. Cory could've
had lots of rich guys. Me, she
Oh. Love. Well, forget about it,
Let me guess. You don't believe
(lights a cigarette)
I believe in cancer. I believe in
What, they're both diseases?
Something like that.
Jimmy shakes his head sadly.
Man, I don't want to meet the
bitch that fucked you up.
I'm sure she'd love meeting you.
Probably blow you on the front
Little bitter, Joe?
EXT. MOONLIT COTTAGE
The two men approach the door. Jimmy takes out his key
The cops are gonna want to check
this place out, so don't disturb
Jimmy opens the door. Flips on the lights. Stops in
The room has been systematically torn to pieces.
A knife has been used to rip open the couch.
Broken furniture, shredded clothing. Everywhere.
It looks like a combat zone.
I think someone disturbed some
Well, shit. Looks like somebody
beat us to it.
Beat us to what?
Whatever evidence Cory was
Assuming there was any. Stay here
Where you going?
Bathroom. You wanna come with me?
Doctor said I shouldn't lift
Hallenbeck starts inspecting the wreckage.
INT. CLUTTERED BATHROOM
Jimmy enters and shuts the door behind him.
He scans the floor, covered with clothes, bottles, etc.
Picks up a carelessly discarded can of Right Guard
Turns it upside down, and unscrews the bottom.
Inside, the can is hollow and empty. The perfect hiding
Jimmy heaves a sigh of relief. Removes a little plastic
Baggie filled with white powder. Stashes it in his
Starts to replace the lid. Stops. Frowns.
Reaches into the can a second time --
And pulls out a yellow envelope.
He looks at it, perplexed.
Puts it in his pocket. Replaces the lid. Tosses the can
on the floor. Flushes the toilet. Leaves.
INT. LIVING ROOM
Hallenbeck, meanwhile, is prowling the living room,
looking at photographs on the walls.
The girl in the photos seems young, beautiful, and naive.
One shot depicts Cory and a friend in cheerleader outfits.
On it is scrawled, GOOD LUCK IN HOLLYWOOD BABY! LOVE,
Hallenbeck gazes around the devastated cottage.
Looks like you made it, baby.
Jimmy emerges from the bathroom.
Yeah, there's some really nice
I may have something.
Later. Let's get out of here.
EXT. COTTAGE - NIGHT
The two men emerge from the house. Joe heads for his
car. Jimmy peels off toward a battered GMC Pacer parked
at the curb.
Where the hell are you going?
As long as we're here, I might as
well take Cory's car.
You got the keys?
Yeah. I'll follow you.
Hallenbeck starts to turn away. Jimmy gets in the car.
Hallenbeck stops. Frowns.
Cory has two cars?
Yeah. This one's just sitting
here until she can sell it.
The color drains from Hallenbeck's features.
He sprints across the sidewalk and yanks Jimmy out of the
driver's seat before he can key the ignition.
Ouch -- ! What's your problem?
Hallenbeck kneels and peers under the car.
Swears softly as he sees two thin copper wires, glinting
in the moonlight.
They used a car bomb on Mike, it
figures they'd try it on her, too.
Except they wired the wrong car.
Jimmy pales noticeably.
Oh. Shit. Oh. Jeez.
Hallenbeck claps him on the back.
Easy, kid. No harm, no foul. We
caught it in time.
He strolls toward his Plymouth, whistling.
Jimmy catches his breath. Swallows hard.
Turns, and bumps into Hallenbeck, coming back the other
What are you doing?
Hallenbeck brandishes a pair of wire-cutters.
Gotta disconnect the fucker.
Whoa. Hold on. Um, shouldn't we
call the bomb squad or something?
Relax, Junior, I used to do this
for a living.
He isolates one wire. Turns and offers the cutters to
You wanna do it?
No, man, I --
Come on, chickenshit. Just snip
Jimmy hesitates, then takes the cutters. Reaches beneath
the wheel well. Plucks at the wire tentatively. Cuts.
Oh, shit not that one!
Jimmy screams and stumbles backward. Lands on his ass.
Hallenbeck is chuckling softly. Shakes his head as he
walks around to release the hood.
You're a fucking asshole!
And then some, Junior. And then
TIME CUT TO:
THREE STICKS OF DYNAMITE - ONE MINUTE LATER
have been taped to the car's ignition system. Hallenbeck
removes the taped bundle. Holds it up for inspection.
We'll hand this over to the cops.
They can analyze it.
Great. So what now?
You tell me, kid.
Give up? Flee? Go really far
I got a better idea. Let's check
in with my family.
They start walking toward Hallenbeck's Plymouth.
Hallenbeck tosses the car keys to Jimmy.
I'm tired. You drive.
Sure. Family, huh? You got kids?
Yeah. Little girl.
Does she like you?
Not much, no. And she likes
Prince, so go figure.
I like Prince.
Great, you can marry my daughter.
Or better yet, fuck my wife. I
hear all it takes is a credit card
and two valid I.D.'s.
Open the trunk.
You're just gonna stick that in
You're right. Let's leave it
here for the neighborhood kids
to play with.
Jimmy opens the trunk. As he does, however, a voice
rings out suddenly from the darkness.
Hold it right there, gentlemen.
They stop. Slowly they turn.
are approaching from out of the trees.
One holds a flashlight trained on Hallenbeck and Jimmy.
The other carries a silenced Beretta.
Is it the cops?
No, Jimmy. It's not the cops.
Working quickly, Hallenbeck tapes the bomb to the inside
of the truck lid. Slams it shut. Turns, facing the new
The MEN wear tailored suits with matching ties.
One is tall and lean. The other is a bruiser, short and
stout. They both have the seasoned look of professional
The Taller Man speaks, gun held rock steady.
Good evening, gentlemen. Bit late
for a stroll, don't you think?
Yeah, you two better be getting
The streetlights are on.
That's amusing. How delightful
to find such amusing men so late
I don't believe I've had the
No, I don't believe you have.
He'd like to have the pleasure.
Tell him it's not for sale.
He says it's --
What's your name, fuckface?
This from the Shorter Man, who is clearly not happy.
(shakes his head)
I'm asshole. He's fuckface.
Jake, apprise Rodney Dangerfield
here of his situation.
Jake slips on a pair of brass knuckles.
Steps up and delivers a looping right to Hallenbeck's
face. A sickening crunch. A two inch gash streams blood.
Jake relieves Hallenbeck of his gun.
Perhaps we can dispense with the
fun and games now, yes?
Jimmy rushes forward, snarling. The Beretta swivels.
Jimmy stops, the gun aimed at his gut.
Easy... Jim... All they want is
The evidence. Very smart. See,
Jake, he knows when a situation is
You like that word?
It occurs to me that you may have
the evidence in question.
(spits out blood)
Give up, Jimmy. We're dealing
Another fist to the head. Hallenbeck grunts. Spits more
Leave him alone, you fuck!
Back off, Jimmy.
The Tall Man turns and eyes Jimmy.
Leave him alone...?
Whatever you say. Jake?
The Short Man steps away from Hallenbeck. Turns and
launches a kick at Jimmy's groin. Connects. The kid
drops to the ground, retching.
Ah, my young friend... I neglected
to tell you that Jake attacks his
job with a certain... exuberance.
Christ... I'm being beat up by the
inventor of Scrabble.
He's still in a good mood, Jake.
Kick him again.
Jake steps forward.
Hallenbeck speaks through cracked, bloody lips:
You want the fucking evidence that
the stripper had. I've got it.
So we can play games, or I can
hand it over.
And then you'll let us go, right?
Sure. We'll let you go.
Where is it?
Hallenbeck meets the Tall Man's gaze. Speaks softly.
Hand me the car keys, Jimmy.
Jimmy stumbles to his feet. Looks at the Tall Man.
Walk over and hand him the keys.
Slow and easy.
Jimmy takes out the car keys. Crosses to Hallenbeck.
Gives him the keys.
The evidence is in the trunk.
Open it. Slow.
Hallenbeck smiles. Shakes his head.
I don't think so.
He turns and throws the keys as far as he can.
They fall out of sight behind a cottage.
Oops. I guess nobody gets it.
You dumb bastard, you're going to
pay for that. Jake, open the
Jake steps forward, drawing a .38 silenced pistol.
He is going to shoot open the lock.
ANGLE ON HALLENBECK
This is what he's been waiting for. He tenses, looking
to one side: next to him is a sloping hillside, angling
down and away. He grips Jimmy's wrist, signalling to get
Jake raises the PISTOL. Take aim at the lock and FIRES.
The SHOT is SILENCED. What follows is not.
Because the bullet blows through the trunk --
And hits three sticks of live dynamite.
SERIES OF SHOTS
Hallenbeck is already moving, pitching to one side,
throwing himself and Jimmy down the hillside.
The night lights up like a SUNBURST.
A tower of fire...
Climbs up and outward from the car.
The TRUNK LID is BLOWN fifty feet in the air.
The tires are pulped.
GLASS SPRAYS for fifty yards in every direction.
And, most importantly: both hitmen are engulfed in
Flames, rolling skyward.
TINKLE of raining GLASS.
Bits of falling metal.
All in all, a helluva blast, and meanwhile:
JIMMY AND JOE
continue to careen down the hillside.
Bouncing like rag puppets. Out of control.
Lurch to stop at the bottom.
Covered head to toe with dirt. Bruised. Bloody.
They lie side by side, sucking air --
Until they both hear an odd noise:
The sound of CRUMPLING METAL.
The sound is GETTING LOUDER.
They both crane their necks in time to see --
The flaming car, tumbling end over end
Coming down the hill.
Heading straight for them.
Jesus fucking Christ!
They both dive for cover, out of the way.
Barely make it.
The CAR plows past them in a shower of dirt.
CRUMPLING. Heaving. Spitting fire.
Finally SLAMS to a halt against a palm tree.
The night is filled with SHOUTS and CURSES.
The sound of DOORS OPENING. The crackle of flames.
Joe rolls over. Looks at Jimmy. Jimmy looks at Joe.
Don't know yet.
They crawl to their feet, inspecting for broken bones.
Either that, or we're looking at
a major factory recall.
Dead guys... don't make bad jokes,
So we're alive.
He spits blood as SIRENS once more fill the night air,
Go. Get out of here.
Get the fuck out of here, I'll
take the heat on this one. Rent
a car. Then go home and wait for
my call. Do it.
Jimmy meets Joe's eyes. Nods. Dashes off into the night.
INT. L.A.P.D. ROBBERY/HOMICIDE DIVISION - NIGHT
Sergeant Benjamin Bessalo is in the mood to kick things.
A metal trashcan is booted across the room with a clang
as he whirls, glaring at Joe Hallenbeck, who is seated
Goddammit, this is a police matter,
you son of a bitch! I'm sick and
fucking tired of sweeping up your
dead bodies, Joe, and the next time
I see your ugly mug I'm puttin' a
bullet in it. You got that? You
are off the case, buddy. Is that
Hallenbeck stares at him. Blows smoke. Says nothing.
INT. RENTAL CAR - DRIVING - NIGHT
Jimmy's at the wheel of a rented Subaru. Hallenbeck
beside him. He hands Joe the envelope he found in Cory's
If you thought there was dynamite
in the trunk, wait'll you see this.
Hallenbeck reaches into the envelope and extracts a
photograph: Two men having lunch together on a secluded
Both are older, distinguished-looking.
Joe suddenly looks very pale.
The guy on the left is Connie
Marcon, the owner of the L.A.
Forget about him. Look at the
guy on the right.
Sort of familiar. Who is he?
Senator Calvin Baynard.
Jimmy draws a sharp breath. Pause, then:
Let's go back to the cops. I'm
Take it easy, kid. It's not so
Not so bad. Excuse me, did you
just say the words not so bad?
You don't understand, Joe, see,
if a guy vomits on the sidewalk,
you don't say, 'Oh, hey, it's not
so bad, there's some ham in there.'
It's fucking vomit, okay? This is
Hallenbeck nervously lights a cigarette.
Stares straight ahead through the windshield. Begins to
When I was thirty, I was on the
President's personal security
force. Once night I was on the
way home from a late session. I'm
on the highway just outside of
Georgetown when I see something
Another time. Another night.
A younger-looking Hallenbeck.
Rugged features. Clipped military haircut.
He is driving.
Down a turnpike, squinting through dense evening mist.
Up ahead, a shape materializes out of the fog:
is lying upside down in a pool of shattered glass.
He SCREECHES to a stop.
In a dream-like SLOW MOTION, he approaches the overturned
There are two dead bodies inside.
A woman. A little boy.
In the window, a stuffed Garfield doll clings with
suction cups to the remaining glass. The furry cat is
splattered with blood.
It was a high-speed collision.
Both cars were totaled. The woman
and the boy were dead. The driver
of the other car wasn't.
is weaving toward Hallenbeck.
Leaving behind his crumpled Mercedes.
He wears an $800 suit. Tan Cordovan loafers. Silk tie.
Fuckin' bitch... She got in front
of me, man. Shit. My fuckin' car.
Stupid bitch wrecked my car...
He stumbles toward Hallenbeck, eyes attempting to focus.
Do you know who I am...? I'm
Louis Baynard, my father is
Calvin D. Baynard, man. Call my
father, he'll take care of it.
The man lurches to a stop in front of Hallenbeck.
Clutching at Joe's lapels. Wheezing liquor fumes.
He presses a hundred dollar bill into Joe's hand.
You'll tell 'em what happened,
right...? Bitch swerved in front
of me, man. Wrecked my fuckin'
I could smell bourbon on him, big
time. He was standing there, not
a scratch on him. I went a little
nuts. I hit him.
In SLOW MOTION, Hallenbeck backhands the rich drunk,
with a head-snapping impact that bursts lips. Breaks
We see the Drunk's head slowly strike the asphalt.
A sickening concussion.
The blow was non-lethal. But when
he fell, his head hit the pavement
funny. Put him in a coma.
The younger Hallenbeck stands on the highway of eight
years past, staring at the Drunk with fierce, blazing
eyes as we --
SNAP BACK TO:
JIMMY AND JOE - BACK TO PRESENT
Even when he came out of it, he
was never right in the head. His
dad fixed everything with the cops.
The accident report disappeared. A
week later the police found half a
kilo of crack cocaine planted in
my house. Acting on an anonymous
The senator fucked your job.
And my pension. And my marriage.
Only reason I'm still licensed to
carry a gun, the man himself made
a few calls. Since then I'm just
playing it out. Day by day.
Jimmy is silent for a moment. Then:
Cory tumbled to some sort of deal
between Marcon and the senator,
and they had her killed.
We gotta show this photo to the
Not yet. I need more evidence.
I want Baynard, Jimmy. I want to
bring him down. I could use your
Why should I help you?
Because if Baynard takes a fall, so
does Marcon. The man who kicked you
out of professional football.
INT. PLUSH BEDROOM - NIGHT
A tall, thin, almost effeminate MAN is seated on a couch.
High cheekbones. A shock of blond hair.
Glittering, malignant eyes.
He is directing a pornographic film.
is bound hand and foot to the posts of a lavishly
appointed bed. Around her, the room is filled with
Kleig lights. Reflectors. Camera equipment.
The girl is scowling furiously. She speaks to the
I want the sheets changed, Milo.
Of course you do, but we're running
I don't give a shit. I'm an
actress, not a piece of meat, and
I want clean sheets!
Fine. It's done. Right after
this next shot.
A strident BEEPER GOES OFF on Milo's belt. He turns to
the two-man crew and claps his hands for attention.
Okay, let's do it.
The closet door opens. A hulking man emerges.
He is carrying a chainsaw.
The Girl on the bed stares, incredulous.
Milo... What the fuck is this,
some kind of joke?
Not at all, dearest. It's what's
known as a snuff film.
The hulking man pulls the starter cord. The SAW ROARS
Oh God Milo please oh God oh no
A smile twitches Milo's upper lip.
Easy, Pablo. She's not a piece
He exits. Closes a sound-proofed door behind him.
INT. WOOD-PANELED STUDY - CONTINUOUS ACTION
Milo enters, all business.
Crosses to a telephone with a blinking light.
Stabs a button. Scoops up the receiver.
Yes, Mr. Marcon? How can I help
Is this line secure?
One hundred percent, sir. I
wouldn't have used your name
Sid and Jake are dead, Milo.
Killed in an explosion. Looks
like we got a new player in the
Who is he working for?
From available information, he
appears to be a free agent. Guy
by the name of Joe Hallenbeck.
Milo sits and begins punching keys on a computer.
Get me everything you can on this
fucker, Milo. I want it on my
computer screen in fifteen minutes.
Yes, sir. And then?
And then you'll be handling it
EXT. HALLENBECK HOME - LATE NIGHT
Dawn is a ghost on the horizon as Jimmy parks the rental
Subaru outside. The two men emerge. Head for the front
So I get to meet your family, huh?
What's your daughter like?
She's like thirteen. And if you
even look at her funny, I'll shove
an umbrella up your ass and open
INT. HALLENBECK HOUSE - CONTINUOUS ACTION
As they come through the front door, Joe's daughter,
DARIAN, is slumped in a big Lazy-Boy, staring sullenly
at a movie on TV. Cute kid, cursed to wear ridiculous-
looking dental headgear.
She doesn't bother to look up.
First things first. I'm starving.
Hey, kiddo. Why aren't you in
I'm watching television.
I can see that.
I hate you. Leave me alone.
She still won't look at him. The two men cross to the
kitchen. Hallenbeck opens the refrigerator, takes out
She's pissed off because I wouldn't
let her go out on a date with her
I missed the biggest party of the
Why couldn't she go?
Because she's thirteen, that's why.
I bought you some ice cream.
I'm not talking to you.
Gee, that's a shame. You always
have such pleasant things to say.
'I hate you, Dad.' I'm gonna miss
that, darn it...
It's chocolate chip, your favorite.
I don't care. You're an asshole.
Without missing a beat, Hallenbeck opens the window
and heaves the ice cream outside.
That's for saying asshole. God, I
hate wasting food. Wanna abuse me
some more? Go ahead, shock me.
You know, I hardly ever hear the
Bullshit, I bet you get it all the
All right, knock it off.
What're you gonna do, ground me
Hey, you want it, you got it, lady.
Thank you, asshole.
You're grounded for a week.
Yes, sir, asshole.
That's two. You wanna play this
game? I love this game.
Just leave me alone.
He thinks he's fuckin' Ward
All right, that's it. You wanna
be a gutter mouth? You wanna
sound like your mother, well
that's terrific. Christ, all day
long I don't take enough abuse,
I gotta listen to shit from you!
Hey, Joe, take it easy...
Don't you tell me how to talk to
All I wanted was to go to a party,
but Pop here thinks I'm out to
Go for it, kiddo. All the dirty
words. Come on, shock me. Go
Sure thing, you dumb fuck-up.
All right, I've had it. Go to
your room. Or I will whip your
You'd probably like it.
Hallenbeck takes her by the arm and drags her out of the
chair. Toward her room.
Goddammit, you are my daughter
and you will respect me, got that?
You got it? You don't ever call
me a fuck-up.
Why shouldn't I, Mom calls you
that all the time.
That stops him. He looks at her, stricken.
Your mother called me a fuck-up...?
On the phone to Uncle Jay.
Uncle Jay? Ohh, Christ, I'm a
fuck-up, but Uncle Jay, now
there's a real stand-up guy.
Shit, the bastard cheats on his
tax form, I'm surprised he hasn't
done time! Why don't you ask your
mother why Mister Wonderful isn't
in jail for tax evasion?
Because he doesn't fuck up.
She goes into her room and shuts the door.
Hallenbeck rubs his eyes. Leans against the wall,
You know, for fifty bucks you could
get a guy to pull out her
fingernails with a pair of pliers.
No. Anything that much fun, I'd
want to do myself.
I think we could both use a drink.
Hallenbeck crosses to a cabinet, breaks out a bottle of
Seagrams. Swigs. Hands it to Jimmy. As Jimmy drinks,
he notices a photo on the wall: Hallenbeck shaking
hands with George Bush.
Yeah. That's me.
You look like the dad on 'The
Yeah, I was a regular Boy Scout.
Joe starts to fix a sandwich. Jimmy takes nips from the
So. You gonna get a divorce?
He bites into the sandwich. Not really tasting it.
You don't like women much, do you,
Mike Miller wasn't the first time.
Sarah has cheated on me before.
Twice. I never told her I knew.
At first, my opinion of women
took a real dip, yeah.
Now I'm content if I like the guy
she's fucking. This last one was
my best friend.
Horseshit, he was a scumbag private
What am I, Jimmy?
He tried to get you killed.
Friends can't be perfect.
I wish the sky wasn't blue. I
wish water wasn't wet. I wish I
didn't still love my wife.
He eats in silence. Jimmy says:
You know what I did last night?
I went to a party and shit on a car.
Damn. You, too?
I'm a complete loser. Capital 'L.'
All I ever wanted... was to be
somebody's hero, you know it...?
Now I mostly sit around. Watch
T.V. Get laid. I'm a fucking
slug, throw salt on me I'd curl
up. Life sucks.
Life doesn't suck?
No, life sucks. But you're not a
loser. Cory loved you.
Yeah, and the last thing I did was
cheat on her.
Why do people cheat, Joe?
Because it's easier than paying
the tax, Junior.
Ooooooh. Very deep.
So deep I don't know what the fuck
It means another drink is required.
He raises the bottle.
Alex the accountant.
He drinks. Hallenbeck frowns, watching him.
Is Alex your accountant?
No. But he could have been.
Alex was my son.
Hallenbeck stares at him.
I was married at 19. Sweet young
thing, looking to get out from
under daddy's thumb. I didn't
know she was a junkie. All during
her pregnancy. Shooting up. There
were complications. She died.
Alex lived for seventeen minutes
in the incubator. Fell asleep.
Died before he woke up.
(takes a drink)
He was born... He had time for
one dream... and then he died.
I wonder what his dream was
I think about him a lot. I mean,
who was this... guy?
This little guy who only got
seventeen minutes, who was he,
Joe...? What was he like?
What would he have been?
He would have been a great
ball player. Like his dad.
(shakes his head)
No. He had to die, Joe. Don't
Why did he have to die?
Because he came out of me.
He puts aside the bottle. Scowls.
I'm gonna borrow your shower.
He exits. Hallenbeck watches him go. Says nothing.
INT. BATHROOM - CONTINUOUS ACTION
Jimmy enters and shuts the door. Turns on the shower.
Makes no move to undress.
Instead, he reaches inside the waistband on his pants.
Removes a vial of coke. Dips a spoon.
The door opens.
Hallenbeck is standing there with a handful of fresh
towels. He stops. Staring at Jimmy. They freeze in
Then Hallenbeck crosses the floor with two quick strides
and slugs Jimmy with all his might. Decks him.
The kid goes over backward into the shower, head striking
the porcelain. He swerves. Claws his way out, drenched.
Not in my house, you dumb
Joe, man, you don't get it --
He picks up the vial of powder.
This is what you went looking for
in Cory's apartment, isn't it?
You found this when you found that
He crosses to the toilet. Jimmy cries out.
Joe drops the vial in the water. Flushes.
Jimmy darts forward. Joe shoves him back.
You stupid bastard, do you know
what you've done? That was a
thousand bucks' worth of shit!
You got it, son. I'm just mixing
it in with all the other shit.
Get the fuck out of my house. Now.
You don't understand.
I said, get out. I'll break your
fucking neck, kiddo.
Jimmy glares at him. Coldly defiant.
Go ahead, tough guy. Go ahead.
I'm trying to survive, man. I use
that stuff to get by, so fuck you.
I don't use it. I get by.
Oh, sure, Dudley fucking Do-Right,
you stand there and judge me, and,
meanwhile, you never had your old
lady die on you, did you, pal??
And your fucking kid?? And I said
to God, 'Hey, buddy, what gives?
I go to church, I give to the
United Way, what is this dead wife
and kid shit...?' And he didn't
say nothin', Joe.
He grabs a towel. Scrubs savagely at his wet torso.
And then I lose my job, my fucking
life, okay, and why...? You know
why? Because I gambled. Whoa,
hold on, stop the presses, Jimmy
gambled, well shit, of course I
gambled, everybody does, and the
fucking league knows it!
He advances on Joe, trembling with anger.
Why, Joe? Why is there an injury
report in pro football, huh...?
Nobody else has a fucking injury
report, but the N.F.L. does, so
the fucking gamblers will know the
spread! Marcon... the commissioner
... those fucking hypocrites...
killed the last thing I could do,
Joe...! I can't do anything...
And suddenly he is crying.
I couldn't save my wife... She
died screaming and I couldn't do a
Goddamn thing... And my baby came
out... and he was so fuckin'
small, Joe... He was too fuckin'
He collapses against the wall.
Slides down to a sitting position. Huddled on the floor.
Hallenbeck watches him. Says nothing.
For a moment, he seems moved to compassion...
Then his gaze hardens. He kneels next to Jimmy.
When you're through feeling sorry
for yourself, the front door's
(wipes his eyes)
You're a total bastard.
You brought cocaine in my house.
End of story.
Jimmy is silent. He stands. Exits into the hall.
Joe's daughter, Darian, is standing there.
You're Jimmy Dix, aren't you?
There is an awkward pause. Darian holds out a football
Young, smiling Jimmy.
The card is old. Tattered.
I'm sorry I acted like a bitch.
Would you sign my card?
Hallenbeck steps forward.
I told you to go to your room.
But, Dad -- !
Go to bed. This guy's not signing
Aw, come off it.
Forget it, Darian.
The guy's a loser. Big time.
Darian's face is a mask of confusion.
Jimmy walks past her to the front door.
Stops with his hand on the knob. Turns.
I never shaved points, Joe. I
Joe is silent. Stone-faced.
If you want my help, I'm at the
Casa Loma Apartments on Ventura.
He exits. Shuts the door behind him.
Darian goes into her room, fuming. Shuts the door.
Joe is alone. He turns. Sees his reflection in the hall
Smile, you fuck.
INT. MASTER BEDROOM - DAWN
The first light of day streams through the window.
Hallenbeck pushes Furry Tom to one side.
Sits on the bed.
Regards his sleeping wife with hooded, lifeless eyes.
She is peaceful. Serene. He reaches out to touch her.
Stops. Withdraws his hand.
Crushes out the cigarette. Stands. Leaves.
INT. DARIAN'S ROOM - SAME TIME
Hallenbeck enters. Crosses to Darian's bed.
She is asleep. She looks vulnerable. Helpless.
He leans over and kisses her.
She stirs in her sleep.
Stares at her.
The DOORBELL RINGS.
Startling him. He mutters under his breath.
Stalks out of the room.
ANOTHER ANGLE - FRONT DOOR
Down the hall to the front door. Flings it open, pissed
Goddammit, Jimmy, I told you -- !
It isn't Jimmy.
Standing on the porch is a tall, thin man with blond
hair. The man removes a TASER GUN from his overcoat.
Good morning, Joseph.
He FIRES point-blank.
The electrode hits Hallenbeck in the chest.
A CRACKLE of electric current. Hallenbeck jerks
The world spirals away.
He plunges down into darkness.
INT. CLUTTERED APARTMENT - MORNING
Jimmy looks bad.
Sprawled out on a tangle of dirty sheets.
Jeans. Bare feet.
Staring at a football card.
A duplicate of the one Darian showed him.
He swings his legs off the bed.
Stands, crushes out his cigarette.
Moves into the bathroom.
The Baggie of coke is on the counter.
He stares at it with bloodshot eyes.
Acts before he can think.
Grabs the Baggie. Tosses it in the toilet.
Flushes. Watches as it goes down the drain.
EXT. CASA LOMA APARTMENTS - MORNING
Another Goddamned day.
A chill drizzle. The palm trees look forlorn.
AT CORNER NEWSSTAND
Jimmy buys a paper. Trudges along Ventura Boulevard.
Huddled against the chill.
SLEEK, BLACK SEDAN
slides to the curb in front of him.
Two men get out:
One is Pablo, who last we saw wielding a chainsaw in
Milo's snuff film; the other is an ugly piece of hired
muscle who we'll call CHET.
The two men flank Jimmy and walk alongside him.
He looks up, startled.
Good morning, Jimmy.
Who are you, and how the fuck do
you know my name?
This is the guy? You sure it's
This is him.
The kid with the million-dollar
Shit. He don't look like much. I
wouldn't pay no million dollars
for this bozo.
Neither will anyone else, anymore.
I'm growing whiskers here, guys.
You got something to say, fucking
Wow. Tough guy stuff. Must have
caught it from his buddy
Don't play dumb, shithead. You
were with him last night at the
Mr. Marcon sent us to teach you a
lesson, Jimmy. Something about
keeping your big coked-up nose
out of his fucking business.
Get ready, kid. This one's an E
And, with that, they grab Jimmy under the arms.
Carry him across the sidewalk to a plywood fence.
Please, guys, don't do this...
Jesus Christ, I was just her
boyfriend, I swear to God, please!
They toss Jimmy over the fence.
Not a terrible fate, under normal circumstances.
In this case, however --
A fifty-foot drop...
Awaits him beyond the fence.
A huge, looming pit dug into the earth.
Foundation for a new parking garage.
Jimmy plummets like a stone.
Under normal circumstances, he'd be dead.
But since it rained last night, he's got three feet of
water to land in.
He hits with a splash. Disappears beneath the water.
Surfaces, screaming in pain.
Thrashes in the muddy water, and only when he looks down
does he notice the splintered bone jutting out of his
skin at a crazy angle.
His million-dollar arm. His throwing arm.
He clutches at cracked ribs, screaming:
Oh, God, my arm, my fucking arm,
oh Jesus Christ!!!
He kneels in the muddy water, rocking back and forth.
LONG SHOT - JIMMY
Alone in the pit.
Huddled in a pool of muddy water.
His screams of pain ECHO in the chill, morning air.
INT. LAPD ROBBERY/HOMICIDE DIVISION - DAY
Ben Bessalo's office, to be precise.
Bessalo reclines grumpily at his desk. Scanning reports.
McCaskey hangs up the phone and calls across the room:
I got bad news and bad news.
Gimmee the bad news first.
Bad news is, they just pulled
Jimmy Dix out of a construction
site on Ventura. He's busted up.
Okay, now gimme the bad news.
I just got a call from Hallenbeck's
Bessalo looks up, intrigued. McCaskey continues:
Now, according to Hallenbeck, Mike
Miller came to the house early
that morning to talk about a case,
Okay. So how come Hallenbeck's
neighbor claims that Miller's car
was parked there all night, in the
Bessalo sits bolt upright. Eyes glazed. Wheels turning.
He lied. Why did he lie...?
Realization hits him like a thunderbolt.
Shit. Miller was fucking his
That's why the car was there,
Miller was fucking Hallenbeck's
wife, Hallenbeck just got back
from out of town, remember?
Christ, Joe wasted the bastard
He stabs a button on the phone. Barks into the receiver:
I want an A.P.B. out on Joe
Hallenbeck. Now. Find him and
if he resists arrest, shoot the
He slams down the phone. Stares, stricken, at McCaskey.
I let him go, Mick. He wasted Mike
Miller and waltzed right out of my
office, I let him go, Goddammit!
Relax, Ben. We'll bring him in.
He's not that good.
You wanna bet?
And, with that, we promptly --
JOE HALLENBECK'S UNCONSCIOUS FACE
Weathered. Sallow. Dark circles under the eyes.
comes INTO FRAME and slaps him. Hard.
Rocks his head to one side.
INT. ELEGANT BEACH HOUSE - LIVING ROOM - ANOTHER ANGLE
Thick carpet. Polished, wood furniture. Window walls.
Outside, the sea is angry and grey.
PABLO AND CHET
are standing over Hallenbeck, who is slumped in a chair.
Both hitmen wear holstered sidearms.
Chet leans over and slaps Hallenbeck again.
The big detective begins to stir.
His eyelids flutter.
I think he's awake.
Chet's hand flashes out for a third slap --
And from nowhere, Joe Hallenbeck's hand magically
Intercepts the blow.
Clamps onto Chet's hand and wrenches it.
A cry of pain.
Chet stumbles backward, cradling the wrist.
His eyelids creak open.
He squints, adjusting to the light.
Studies his captors.
You nearly broke my wrist, man.
Life's a bitch.
He starts pawing his coat pockets, looking for a cigarette.
In the corner, Pablo chuckles:
Milo warned us to watch out for
Chet is seething. He glares at Hallenbeck.
Fuck that. Look at him. He's
nothin'. Guy's a piece of shit.
Hallenbeck ignores him. Sits up. Rubs tired eyes.
Anybody got a cigarette...?
Chet steps forward. Grins wickedly.
Sure, buddy. I got a cigarette.
He reaches into his shirt pocket. Extracts a Marlboro.
Hands it to Hallenbeck. Takes out a lighter.
Hallenbeck places the cigarette between his lips.
Leans forward for a light --
And Chet slugs him in the face.
The cigarette goes flying.
Hallenbeck's head snaps back.
Blood creeps from his lower lip.
Hey, baby, I thought you were
tough. See, Pablo, he ain't so
Hallenbeck's eyes glint fiercely. He takes a breath.
Leans forward and says:
I seem to have dropped my
cigarette. May I have another?
Chet turns, meets his gaze. The grin falters a bit.
Sure. Sure thing, buddy.
He hands Hallenbeck another smoke.
Hallenbeck puts it between his lips.
I need a light.
And if you touch me again... I'll
A pregnant pause.
The challenge hangs in the air.
Slowly, Chet takes the lighter from his pocket.
Pablo looks on, a smile twisting his features.
Hallenbeck leans forward for a light.
Chet extends his arm --
And slugs Hallenbeck in the face again.
Chet howls with laughter.
Baby! Two for two!
The laughter continues.
Hallenbeck takes a deep breath.
Strikes with a flattened palm.
Breaks Chet's nose.
Drives it up into the brain.
Chet stands, pole-axed. Blinks once.
Pitches over dead.
And suddenly Pablo isn't laughing.
He stares at Hallenbeck, incredulous.
Stares at Chet, lying on the carpet.
(draws his gun)
You son-of-a-bitch. Jesus Christ!!
He rushes to Chet. Kneels beside him.
Hallenbeck calmly returns to his seat.
You killed him! 'Fuckin' A, you
killed him, he's fuckin' dead!!!
Hallenbeck says nothing.
At that moment, a door opens, and Milo enters.
Slick. Well-dressed. Utterly composed.
Is there a problem?
He killed Chet, Milo. The mother-
fucker just killed him!
Milo looks toward Hallenbeck. Hallenbeck says nothing.
Instead, he calmly leans forward and picks up Chet's
lighter from the carpet. Lights his cigarette. Blows
A tense moment... and then Milo does something un-
expected: He starts to laugh. Advances into the room,
Oh, my. Oh, Goddamn. Joseph,
Joseph, you don't disappoint me.
He draws a Walther PPK and approaches Hallenbeck.
Smiling and cheerful.
You seem to have killed one of
I needed a light.
Milo nods as if this makes perfect sense.
You took an awful risk. Pablo
here could have shot you dead.
If you wanted me dead, you'd have
already killed me.
Yes, that's true.
I suppose introductions are in
(waves his hand)
Fuck it. You're the bad guy,
Yes. I'm the bad guy.
And you've got the gun, and I'm
supposed to tremble in fear,
something like that?
Something like that.
Fine. I'll start trembling in a
minute. Mind if I have a drink
I don't see why not. Pablo,
please take Chet's corpse into
the other room, and then fix Mr.
Hallenbeck a drink.
Suddenly a voice rings out from the doorway:
Make that two.
Hallenbeck turns toward the new arrival.
Hey, look who's here. Connie
Sure enough, CONRAD MARCON saunters in, just like he owns
the place. Which, by the way, he does. Tall, strong,
Texas-tough. Dressed in a Saville Row suit. He frowns
Careful, son. Only my friends
call me Connie.
You got friends? When did this
I'll give you one thing. You're
pretty calm for a man in your
You're pretty calm for a man whose
team is three and six on the year.
They're having some problems.
Marcon's composure falters, but only for a moment.
I'm glad you're here, Joe. We
got a few things to discuss.
He takes a moment to gather his thoughts.
For starters, I'm sure you're
aware that professional football
is changing, and not for better.
(lights a cigar)
Used to be, you went to the local
stadium come Sunday, you saw
heroes. Guys who fought for
their hometown. Anymore, no one
gives a shit. Ever since Sonny
Werblin paid $400,000 to Joe
Namath back in '66, the sons of
bitches just got greedier.
Playing only for themselves.
Giving nothing back to the game.
Pablo hands him a double bourbon.
This year, the final blow: the
N.F.L. votes to decertify the
Players Organization. Eliminates
the draft, reduces all athletes
to free agents. Reduces football,
once and for all, to commerce. To
greed, you follow?
When do I say the Pledge of
Marcon looks directly at Hallenbeck.
Do you know how many ratings points
Monday Night Football lost this
year? Per week? An average of
two point eight.
Oh, for Chrissake. You're telling
me this whole thing is about TV
People have stopped watching, Joe!
Everybody's turning the channel,
they're still looking for heroes,
you follow? Guys like you. Milo
here tells me you took a bullet
for the President, jumped in front
of a sniper rifle.
Hallenbeck reacts, startled. Looks at Milo.
We took the liberty of researching
How about it, Joe? Is it truth or
I got the rifle in my closet as a
There you go, that's what I'm
saying. The public wants real
heroes. Not a bunch of football
prima donnas, jumping from team
to team with their fancy lawyers.
In fact, Joe, and this is my
point, there's only one reason
left nowadays to watch pro-
football. Can you guess?
It begins to dawn on Hallenbeck.
(puffs his cigar)
Just one problem: football
gambling is illegal in all but
two of the fifty states. And
that, Joe boy, is where I come in.
Shit, that's what this is about!
You're bribing United States
senators. Paying them to pass
-- Legalizing football gambling
in all fifty states. Exactly.
Attendance goes up again. TV
ratings go up again.
You got it, son. The networks are
happy. I'm happy. Everybody's
Before we get too fucking happy,
let's get a couple things straight:
first, I'm not your fucking son,
and second... why am I still alive?
Marcon stops pacing. Sighs and sits down facing
It's like this, Joe: everything
was going great until a couple
weeks ago, and then I hit a snag:
Senator Calvin Baynard.
(takes a sip of bourbon)
I don't get it. What's the snag?
I offered him the bribe and he
wouldn't take it.
Hallenbeck actually does a spit-take. Sprays bourbon.
Baynard? Are you nuts? The guy's
so crooked he shits slinkies.
Allow me to clarify: I offered
him the bribe, and he turned it
down because he wanted more money.
(sighs with relief)
Thank God. For a minute there I
felt hell freezing over. Did he
ask for more than a million?
Does the Pope shit in the woods?
He wants two million or he'll
blow the lid off my whole plan.
I don't feel like paying no two
mil, so basically that good ole'
boy's gotta die.
Taking off a U.S. senator, that's
pretty ballsy. Even for an asshole
Oh, I'm not going to kill Baynard,
Marcon says nothing. Just looks at Hallenbeck and
He rubs tired eyes.
I'm the perfect fall guy. Everyone
and his uncle Max knows I hate
Anything goes wrong, all the heat
lands on you, Joe boy. My hands
Any particular reason I should go
along with this prize-winning
He motions to Milo, who disappears through a doorway.
Reappears a moment later.
He's got Joe's wife.
ANGLE ON HALLENBECK
He stands. Face contorting. Fists clenched.
Rage courses through him like an electric current.
Marcon cocks his gun.
Sit down, Joe.
A moment. Joe stands, smouldering. On fire. Sarah
Do what he says, Joe.
Joe sits. Breathing shallowly.
Eyes locked on Milo.
Are you alright, Sarah?
That's a temporary condition,
Joseph. As you may be aware,
there are distributors in Mexico
who positively crave snuff films.
And unless you do every fucking
thing Mr. Marcon tells you... your
wife will make her motion picture
He meets Joe's murderous gaze... and smiles.
INT. HOSPITAL EMERGENCY ROOM - DAY
Meanwhile, back at the ranch, Jimmy is seated, shirtless,
on a metal examining table. His ribs are taped. His
arm in a cast.
Two men loom over him, sour expressions on their faces:
Sergeants McCaskey and Bessalo.
Jimmy shakes his head, exasperated:
Look, I'll say it again for the
cheap seats: I don't know
anything and I can't help you.
Okay? Can I go now?
Bessalo grimaces in disgust.
Let me get this straight: you're
walking along, minding your own
business, when two guys you never
met jump you and throw you in a
ditch for no particular reason.
Is that it?
You're full of shit, kid.
Tell me where Hallenbeck is.
How the fuck should I know? Try
We did. Where is he?
For Chrissake, I just met the guy.
Look, Sergeant. I don't give a
shit about Joe Hallenbeck. I just
busted my throwing arm and I'm
in a real pissy mood, so you got
two choices: either charge me
with something or let me the fuck
He glares defiantly at Bessalo.
EXT. CASA LOMA APARTMENTS - DAY
The grey day wears on.
Jimmy trudges stiffly down the walk toward his apartment
unit. Pulls up short, staring ahead --
Slumped outside the door to his apartment. Asleep. A
crumpled piece of paper clutched in her hand.
He kneels beside her. Touches her shoulder.
Hey. Wake up.
She stirs. Awakens, looking at him.
Her eyes are puffy and red from crying.
Her hair is a tangled mess.
She hands him the piece of paper, and promptly bursts
Buries her head in his chest, sobbing.
He cradles her with his good arm.
Awkwardly unfolds the crumpled paper and reads:
MOMMY AND DADDY ARE WITH US
CALL THE POLICE AND WE'LL KILL THEM BOTH.
He stares at the note, dumbstruck.
EXT. BEACH HOUSE - DAY
A savage wind sweeps in off the ocean.
Gulls wheel overhead.
FORTY FOOT YACHT
is tethered to a wooden dock outside the beach house.
Milo and his crew prepare to cast off. Meanwhile:
approaches along the dock, looking lean and mean in an
He stops in front of Sarah and Joe Hallenbeck.
They are seated on the dock.
Each handcuffed to a metal railing.
Pablo kneels and unfastens Joe's cuffs.
Go fuck yourself.
Pablo delivers a savage kick to Hallenbeck's ribs.
Hallenbeck gasps in pain.
I meant that... in a good way...
Pablo hauls him to his feet. Props him against the
Time for a little payback, Joe.
Call it a service to dear departed
He slams a fist into Hallenbeck's middle.
Sarah cries out in alarm.
How's that feel, fuckhead?
I'm asshole... she's fuckhead.
And with that, Pablo lets him have it.
Rains punches on his chest and gut.
Slams an elbow into his kidneys.
Drives a knee into his groin.
Joe hits the deck.
Milo calls out from the boat:
Easy, Pablo. I want him conscious.
Pablo is kicking Joe's prone form.
Goddamn you, stop it!! Oh, Jesus,
leave him alone!
Pablo gives Joe a last swift kick. Spits on him.
Hallenbeck vomits. Lies bleeding on the dock.
Sarah crawls over to him. As far as the cuffs will
allow. Cradles his head in her lap.
Don't... look at me...
Shhh. It's okay, Joe. I'm here,
(strokes his hair)
I love you, Joe.
Hallenbeck looks at her like she's just grown three
I get the shit beat out of me...
puke all over myself... and now
you love me?
I never stopped loving you, Joe.
Christ, you slept with three guys.
You knew about the others?
You never said anything.
Figured... you needed them.
Joe, Goddammit, why didn't you
Like what? 'Fuck you, Sarah'?
Yes. Fuck you, Sarah! Anything
to show that you... that you had
some pride left.
A pause. Then Hallenbeck heaves a sigh.
Sorry... I'm fresh out.
I'm scared, Joe. Get me out of
Must be my trick ear. Sounded
like you said, 'Get me out of
You can take these guys, Joe.
I've got cracked ribs and a
Save me, Joe. Be a hero.
I don't believe in heroes.
That's no excuse.
He stares up at her for a moment. Then, through bloody
Fuck you, Sarah...
And he smiles.
Just then, Milo signals from the boat.
Seeing, this, Pablo approaches the couple again.
All right, lovebirds, break it up.
He yanks Sarah to her feet.
Lets his gaze roam up and down her body.
He rips open her blouse. Roughly fondles her breasts.
Hallenbeck. On the ground.
He growls with fury. Starts to push himself up.
Stay down, fucker. Don't you
At that moment, Milo comes striding down the dock.
Careful, Pablo. We don't want to
get Mrs. Hallenbeck all excited in
front of hubby.
He squats next to Joe.
Hello, Joseph, guess what? Time
to go, and remember: you follow
orders, or the missus pays the
You're gonna kill us both anyway.
Perhaps. But there are ways to
die, and then there are... ways to
die. Capisce? You determine your
He yanks Hallenbeck to his feet.
Propels him toward the boat.
As her husband is being led away, Sarah calls out:
He stops. Turns. Looks at her.
Boys and girls, there is, within Joe Hallenbeck, a spark:
Tiny. Fizzling. Almost gone.
But now, looking at his wife, that spark unexpectedly
And eight years melt away.
Just like that.
The old Joe Hallenbeck looks his wife in the eye and
says, with deadly calm:
I'll be back.
That's a promise.
Milo clubs Joe in the head with his pistol.
You're wasting my time, Joseph.
Hallenbeck turns. Dirty. Tired. Unshaven. Bloody.
He looks at Milo... and grins:
If you touch me again... I'll kill
They stare into each other's eyes.
Hallenbeck does not give an inch.
Milo hits him again.
INT. TOPANGA CANYON HOME - DAY
Remember Jimmy's friend, Henry, who we met briefly near
the opening of the film? Of course you do, you're a
highly-paid reader or development person.
Well, Henry is seated in a big, lived-in den watching
football films. The walls around him are adorned with
hunting paraphernalia. Rifles. Trophies.
There is a KNOCK at the door. He gets up.
Crosses to the door. Opens it.
And Jimmy Dix is there. He gets right to the point:
I need to borrow a gun, Henry.
INT. EXPENSIVE, WOOD-PANELED OFFICE - AFTERNOON
Conrad Marcon sits behind a huge teak desk.
Surrounded by football paraphernalia. Paintings.
The PHONE CHIRPS. He picks up the receiver. Stabs a
ON SHIPBOARD - MILO
It's Milo, sir. We're now underway
and should be lying off Catalina
within two hours.
Good boy, Milo. The commissioner's
party starts at six. I'll put in
a token appearance around six-thirty.
Very good, sir.
Any problems with Hallenbeck?
No, we're getting along famously.
Glad to hear it. No fuckups, Milo.
I want him deep-sixed.
I assure you, neither he nor the
senator will see another sunrise.
Christ, Milo, how come you always
have to talk like a fruit?
If it annoys you, I could always
adopt a Texas drawl, though I'm
afraid I don't know any stories
about fucking pigs. Sir.
Cows, Milo. Never pigs.
I'll remember that, sir.
He hangs up.
Marcon replaces the receiver and chuckles.
He turns, and suddenly we realize he's not alone in the
room: a STRANGE MAN is seated in the shadows off to one
side. His face is obscured... Marcon addresses him:
So far, so good.
The Man in the corner nods, then speaks. As he does, we
notice he has a speech impediment; it sounds like he's
talking with his mouth full.
We've worked too hard, Con.
There's no margin for error.
Take it easy, buddy. We're
You're using the first team, yes?
Actually, I have no choice.
Fuckin' Hallenbeck killed the
second and third teams.
EXT. LONG BEACH BOAT YARD - AFTERNOON
A sign reads, BOAT RENTALS: DAY AND WEEK.
Jimmy moves briskly down a concrete ramp toward a
Hatteras sport charter. He is obsessed. Determined.
Darian trots along behind him. She's holding up pretty
What do you need a boat for?
I'm gonna crash a party out on
Catalina. Marcon will be there.
He swings a bag of gear onto the boat. Starts to store
Maybe... we should call the
No, honey. Not now. There's some
big shots involved in this mess,
and it's my word against theirs.
If I blab to the cops, your mom
and dad will disappear and they'll
never find the bodies.
I'm sorry, Darian.
(about to cry)
So... what do we do...?
What I do... is confront Conrad
Marcon and threaten to go to the
cops, unless he gives them back.
Is that gonna work?
Beats me, but I think it's what
your dad would do.
Me, too, honey.
His gear stashed, he turns to Darian. Tries a smile.
So... why'd you come to me,
I don't know. I thought you'd...
know what happened, know what to
I mean, you were one of my dad's
Jimmy almost chokes...
When I was little, he used to talk
about you all the time. Best
football player in the game.
Great this. Wonderful that. You
shoulda seen him when you got
Jimmy stares straight ahead. Takes a deep breath.
I'll get them back, kiddo. I'll
get them back.
EXT. CATALINA ISLAND - ESTABLISHING SHOT - NIGHT
The island sits beneath a dark, cloud-filled sky.
Fog nestles in the foothills, rolling in off the ocean.
slices through the murk, filled with light, laughter,
Boats are arriving at a private dock.
A steady stream of guests. Tuxedoes and evening gowns.
A parade of phony hair and phony boobs.
All mounting the stairs to a huge chalet.
Inside, a dinner party is in progress.
INT. OPULENT LIVING ROOM - PARTY
People with six-figure incomes.
Pretending they're important.
At a raised bar, Conrad Marcon bends the ear of a
Japanese businessman. A lot of laughter. Back-slapping.
A sudden commotion near the front door.
FLASHBULBS POP. People crane their necks.
Marcon turns to look, as:
SENATOR CALVIN BAYNARD
enters the party, surrounded by an entourage of men in
Armani suits. Seeing this, Marcon's face changes.
Gone is the affable Texan.
In his place, a ruthless murderer.
as a thirty-shot clip is snapped into place.
INT. FORTY-FOOT YACHT - CABIN - NIGHT
Milo is preparing the weapon.
He works the action. Pumps a round into the chamber.
Looks up at Hallenbeck, who is bound hand and foot.
Seated across from him in the boat's cabin.
Your wife's very pretty.
Fuck you, cocksucker.
My, my. Little testy this evening.
He pulls a switchblade out of his Windbreaker.
That's not very polite, you know,
calling someone a cocksucker. A
lot of hard Ks. Very abusive
Hallenbeck says nothing.
What would you do, Joseph, if
someone called you that? Would
you cut out one of his eyes...?
What would you do?
I'd go off and suck some cock
and leave him the fuck alone.
Milo studies Hallenbeck the way a museum curator might
study a new species of fish.
It occurs to me, Joseph, that I
would very much like to hear you
You're so cool, aren't you? So...
if you'll pardon the expression...
hard-boiled. I'd like, just once,
to hear you scream in pain.
Play some rap music.
Milo chuckles, shakes his head.
When do I kill Baynard?
Come now, Joseph, did you really
think that I'd hand you a loaded
You're not really going to kill
He leans forward.
You're going to be framed for the
senator's murder... when they find
your corpse at the scene of the
EXT. PRIVATE DOCK - NIGHT
Boats, lots of them. Sportfishers. Yachts. Floating
boats. Money, money, everywhere, and plenty of drinks
HATTERAS SPORT BOAT
PURRS quietly into the harbor. Jimmy at the rudder.
Nudges up to the dock.
In the chalet above, the party rages.
SERIES OF SHOTS - JIMMY'S PREPARATION
Jimmy lashes the boat.
Grabs a tuxedo from the closet.
Stands, dressed, in front of the mirror.
Opens a box. Removes a 9 millimeter Baretta.
Works the slide. Jacks a bullet into the cylinder.
Stashes it in the waistband of his pants:
In back. Concealed by the tuxedo.
Studies his own grim face in the mirror.
Okay, hot shit, let's do it.
EXT. DECK - NIGHT
Jimmy emerges from the cabin. Heads for the rail.
A voice calls out:
He turns, and sees Darian Hallenbeck.
Peeking her head out from under a tarpaulin.
Goddammit, I told you to go home!
Fuck you, I stowed away. They're
my parents, okay?
Jimmy shakes his head. Exasperated.
Fine, whatever. Just stay here.
With the boat.
Darian starts to protest.
He throws her the keys.
Anything funny happens, get the
fuck out of here.
Darian takes the keys. Frowns, says:
You look terrible.
I feel terrible.
Are you really a drug addict?
I was. I kicked the habit.
This morning. Stay here.
He swings over the side, onto the dock.
Don't let them break your other
Thanks, kid. You're a fuckin'
INT. MILO'S YACHT - CABIN - SAME TIME
Milo speaks to Hallenbeck. Clipped. Businesslike.
At eight-fifteen, Senator Baynard
will leave the party, hopefully
unobserved. He and his entourage
will board a fast boat, and
rendezvous with us at sea.
Jesus. He thinks he's geting his
Milo nods. Points to two identical suitcases in the
Baynard will not leave his boat.
One of his men will board us, and
inspect the contents of the
suitcase. This suitcast.
He opens one of the cases. Hallenbeck stares.
HUNDRED DOLLAR BILLS
Twenty thousand of them, to be precise. Neatly bundled.
Then we pull a simple switch.
When the man returns to his boat,
he's carrying this suitcase.
He points to the identical twin.
Detonation upon opening. Enough
to kill the passengers, not enough
to sink the craft.
And when we place your charred
corpse amidst the wreckage, the
police will draw the inevitable
conclusion: a down-on-his-luck
P.I. makes a suicide strike
against the man who cost a
That sounds lovely, but how is my
body gonna get charred?
With a flourish, Milo pulls aside a tablecloth.
Under the table is a five gallon can of gasoline.
Maybe I'll get to hear you scream,
Just then, one of Milo's crew sticks his head in the
You better get up here, we got
EXT. YACHT - ON DECK - NIGHT
Milo's yacht is anchored about a half mile offshore.
Island lights blink in the distance. Fog rolls in.
Milo emerges from the cabin onto the deck.
Crosses to the railing, looks down at:
bobbing in the water about thirty yards away.
A FISHERMAN is waving his arms. Hailing them.
Beside him, his wife and seventeen-year-old son.
Hey! Buddy, I got a cracked engine
casing, I'm dead in the water!
Can I get a tow?
Milo swears under his breath. Calls out:
I'm sorry, sir. This boat is
Island Security, we're under
strict orders to stay within this
Aw, shit! Look, it'll take ten
I'm sorry, we can't help you.
Goddammit, now I gotta call the
Milo's crewman steps up to the rail. Speaks urgently:
Milo, he's gonna bring the Coast
Guard down on top of us.
Milo ponders for maybe three seconds. Then he calls out:
Excuse me. Sir?
The Fisherman turns. His family beside him.
Fuck you, sir.
He reaches under his Windbreaker.
Pulls out an Ingram model MACHINE GUN.
The entire family is blown away.
WOOD SPLINGERS POP and fly.
The bodies topple like broken toys.
Milo ceases fire. Turns to his crewman.
Problem solved. Get over there
and put the bodies below where
they can't be seen.
He saunters away as if nothing unusual has occurred.
EXT. PARTY HOUSE - NIGHT
Jimmy is strolling along a hedge behind the house.
Looking for a back entrance.
He hears VOICES, approaching.
Pulls up short. Ducks into the shadows.
Senator Baynard goes by, with two bodyguards.
Christ, I can't believe I agreed
to this dog and pony show. Let's
get it over with.
The head for the boats.
Jimmy stares after them, mind racing.
Makes a decision: heads for the boats.
INT./EXT. JIMMY'S BOAT - NIGHT
Jimmy casts off the lines.
Heads for the cockpit. Darian is inside.
Gimmee the keys, kiddo.
Where are you going?
The Senator's here, and he's
leaving by the back door. I'm
gonna follow him.
He keys the ignition.
Get off the boat.
Fuck you, man. No way.
Darian, Goddammit --
She runs below decks.
I'm not coming out!
Jimmy looks up:
The Senator's boat, a sleek, powerful Marlineer, is even
now pulling out of the cove.
Okay. Shit. Okay. Easy. Shit.
He throttles forward.
The Hatteras pulls away from the dock.
EXT. SKY - NIGHT
The sound of THUNDERING ROTORS, as a refitted Bell Cobra
HELICOPTER cuts through the night sky over Catalina.
Banks sharply, cruises offshore.
INT. COCKPIT - SAME
The PILOT works the stick while the CO-PILOT searches the
water below through infra-red binoculars. He speaks into
This is Air One, over.
Roger, Air One, over.
The drop zone is clear, repeat,
the drop zone is clear, over.
MILO'S YACHT - SAME TIME
Milo is at the other end of the connection.
Beside him, two crewmen.
Roger, Air One, over and out.
(replaces the mike)
Up anchor, gentlemen, we have a go.
Gag him and stash him.
As Milo goes topside, one of the men tapes Joe's mouth.
The other opens a cramped storage compartment.
They stuff him inside. Shut and lock the door.
EXT. PACIFIC OCEAN - NIGHT
About two miles offshore. The Senator's Marlineer cuts
through the waves, converging with Milo's yacht.
The two boats pull up alongside. The lines are made fast.
One of Milo's crewmen greets Senator Baynard's AIDE, a
slick-looking Italian in a $1,000 overcoat.
Baynard's man hops from one boat to the other.
Boarding Milo's yacht. Meanwhile --
EXT. OFFSHORE WATERS - IN FOGBANK
Jimmy Dix is clearly lost.
He bangs his fist in frustration.
Goddammit, I lost him. I can't
see a fucking thing.
See if this boat has sonar.
Oh, yeah, little Miss Know-It-All.
Watch your mouth.
Take a bath in my ass.
They're clearly having no fun.
INT. MILO'S YACHT - CABIN - SAME TIME
The payoff is in progress.
One of Milo's crewmen carries the suitcase over to the
wall. Places it on a built-in counter. Underneath the
suitcase is a half-finished jigsaw puzzle. Off to one
side is a half-empty coffee container.
The case is opened. Greenbacks galore.
Baynard's Aide whistles softly.
Examines the stacks of bills. Nods, satisfied.
Okay. We're cool.
Just then Milo enters the cabin. Adopts a harsh New York
accent as he angrily barks:
Hey! Any of you stupid fucks
bother to frisk this goombah?
No, sir, we didn't think --
Exactly, you didn't think!
Goddammit, that's two million
bucks there, now frisk the
Hey, baby, I'm clean, take it
Fuck easy. Against the wall,
As Baynard's man assumes the position --
Milo hits a concealed button.
It happen in less than a second: the built-in counter
rotates into the wall, only to be replaced by an
Identical half-finished jigsaw puzzle. Identical coffee
cup. And, of course, the identical suitcase.
The indignant Aide turns around, pat-down concluded.
Milo smiles apologetically.
We're cool, baby.
He hands over the suitcase.
Baynard's man emerges onto the deck, carrying the suitcase.
Steps over the rail, crossing to the Senator's boat.
Gives a thumbs up to the men waiting there.
They cast off the lines. Freeing the two boats.
INT. MILO'S YACHT - BRIDGE
Milo watches, tense.
As the lines are freed, he says:
Hard to starboard, get us out of
here. Back off a hundred yards
and wait for the blast.
INT. SENATOR'S CABIN - SAME TIME
The go-between heads below deck, carrying the suitcase.
Senator Baynard puts down his wine glass.
Looks up, expectant.
The Aide flashes an "A-Okay" grin.
Sets the suitcase on a table. Meanwhile --
INT. JIMMY'S SPORT BOAT - BRIDGE
Jimmy has had about enough. He sighs with frustration.
Stares ahead into the fog.
All we're doing is burning gas.
Sorry, kid, I'm turning back.
The words are barely out of his mouth when he hears a
throbbing NOISE, growing louder... Darian looks up
Do you hear that -- ?
And with that --
bursts from the fog.
Directly in front of them.
Hovers like an avenging angel, TURBINES SCREAMING --
Holy fucking shit!
Rotor wash sprays in every direction.
The noise is deafening.
INT. AIR ONE - COCKPIT
The PILOT grabs the mike and shouts into it:
Code yellow, code yellow, we got
a bogie, repeat, we got a bogie,
INT. MILO'S YACHT - BRIDGE
Milo snaps his head to one side, hearing this.
Grabs the mike:
Air One, Air One, where the fuck
Nine o'clock, repeat, on your
nine, and closing fast!
Jimmy's BOAT ROARS out of the fog...
And suddenly he's in a world of shit.
Less than fifty yards to port is Milo's yacht.
Fifty years to starboard is the Senator's Marlineer.
Oh, wow. We're fucked.
He GUNS the ENGINE. Spins the wheel, banks to port.
screams past, cutting across the bow, nearly taking off
the roof --
Jimmy, wrestling the wheel, and meanwhile --
INT. BAYNARD'S CABIN
The Senator actually has his hands on the suitcase to
open it, when one of his MEN yells:
Shit! Something's going on.
What is it?
Another boat. It's a fucking
Get us out of here, now!
The guy relays the order, and:
EXT. HIGH SEAS
Baynard's Marlineer surges forward.
Full throttle, heading for shore, as --
EXT. MILO'S YACHT
Milo skids out on deck, grabbing for his machine gun.
Who the fuck is he?
A crewman grabs a pair of binoculars. Meanwhile --
INSIDE STORAGE COMPARTMENT
Hallenbeck has no fucking idea what's going on, but he
can hear everthing that's said, as:
BACK ON DECK
the Crewman lowers the binoculars in disbelief:
Son of a bitch! It's Dix, the
INT. STORAGE COMPARTMENT
Hallenbeck's face goes through various stages of shock.
It's nothing compared to when he hears:
There's a little girl with him!
With that, he goes berserk.
Draws his legs back, thunders them against the compart-
ment doors. Kicks with all his might. Over and over
like a crazed horse, as:
Air One does a flyby, circling, awaiting instructions.
Milo grabs the hand mike and says:
Air One, Air One, follow the
Senator, roger? I'll take the
sport boat, you take Baynard, over.
AIR ONE (V.O.)
That's a roger. Over and out.
(turns to his men)
Okay, let's go. Full throttle.
INT. YACHT - SAME TIME
With a final, resounding crash, Hallenbeck kicks open the
compartment. Topples out onto the cabin floor.
Works his bound hands over his knees so they're now tied
in front of him.
Everybody's topside; for the moment, at least, he is
He half crawls, half lurches over to the kitchen nook.
Worms beneath the table... awkward, desperate...
Drags out the can of gasoline.
Tries to unscrew the top. No dice. Can't get a grip.
Finally, in frustration, he tips the can on its side.
Brings his legs up in the air --
Slams them down on the can.
Over and over until, with a metallic pop -- ! it bursts.
Floods gasoline over the carpet, meanwhile:
Milo's yacht is plowing ahead, gaining on Jimmy's
Hatteras. The crew members take up positions on the
prow. OPEN FIRE.
As he throws Darian to the deck, shields her with his
The wheelhouse is RAKED by GUNFIRE.
He grits his teeth. Reaches beneath his tux.
Yanks out the BERETTA and returns FIRE, BAM -- BAM -- !
INT. YACHT CABIN
Hallenbeck is opening a box of kitchen matches with his
Dozens of matches fall scattered on the carpet.
He releases the box. Bends. Picks up a single match in
Presses his face to the wall. Gives his neck a wrench --
Lights the match.
He drops the match on top of the GAS CAN.
A WHOOSH of combustion. It bursts into flame.
Joe swivels around. Balancing on his backside.
Thrusts his legs into the fire.
Strains. Pulls. Sweat runs in rivers.
Until the ropes binding his legs snap.
He lurches to his feet, lets free.
Now there's only one problem: He's on fire.
The legs of his pants are soaked with gas.
Flames race up his legs.
He plunges headlong up the stairs.
ON TO DECK
where he hurtles toward the rail, dives --
into the sea, swallowed by the waves.
A CREWMAN suddenly screams:
Fire in the hole!
Fire, indeed. It's a rapidly-spreading blaze.
The pursuit is momentarily forgotten as the crew races to
put out the fire, and meanwhile:
surfaces, gasping for air. Trying to swim with his hands
spots him first. Sees her father bobbing like a cork in
the ocean, screams:
Jimmy whirls around, startled.
Shit. I don't believe it.
Do something! Hurry!
Jimmy spins the wheel. Banks hard to port.
Brings the boat around in an arc. Yells to Darian:
Keep the wheel like this! Don't
let it move!
She grabs the wheel. Jimmy bends down. Opens a compart-
ment. Takes out the boat's anchor. Metal hook, attached
to seventy yards of chain. He hefts it like a grappling
Third and long, baby, lets' go...
And, sure, his left arm isn't his good arm --
But, boy, does he heave that anchor.
It soars through space, chain playing out behind it...
Hits water, thirty yards past Hallenbeck --
Who turns, sees the anchor skimming toward him over the
EXT. MILO'S YACHT
Milo, meanwhile, has also spotted Hallenbeck.
He growls in rage. Hefts the Ingram machine gun, as:
Hallenbeck thrusts forward, hooks his bound hands around
the passing anchor and whoosh -- !
He is catapulted forward, jerked like a rag puppet.
BULLETS CHOP the water where he just was.
He skims over the waves. Bounced. Battered.
Trailing behind Jimmy at fifty miles an hour.
Jimmy and Darian begin to haul him in.
The boat rushing headlong, driverless.
With a last, desperate surge of energy --
They drag Hallenbeck over the side. Into the boat.
She collapses, weeping, atop her father.
Hugs him for all she's worth.
What the hell's she doing here??
I stowed away...
GUNFIRE splits the air.
Reminds them they're not out of the woods.
is behind them again. The fire is out. The chase is on.
It steadily cuts the distance.
Hallenbeck staggers to his feet.
Get below, Darian. And stay
He stumbles into the wheelhouse. Dazed. Barely
Got any ideas?
Yeah. Go really fast and hope
they don't catch us.
Fog bank, dead ahead. Hang on.
Into the fog they go, and, folks --
This is really scary.
Because you can't see a foot in front of your face.
They plunge through the fog at fifty miles an hour.
Hallenbeck sweats, eyes glued to the windshield.
And then a shape materializes off to port:
Running alongside. Drawing closer.
Hallenbeck wrestles the wheel. No dice.
The yacht draws ever closer... men on deck... machine
Joe looks over... and his face tells the story:
Except, just then, a strange thing happens:
Milo's yacht veers off to the left. Away from
Hallenbeck. Jimmy stares, dumbfounded.
What the fuck? They're peeling
A pause... then it hits Joe like a thunderbolt:
'Cause they got sonar, that's why!
Hard to port!
The boat slews to the left, as, from out of the fog --
The Catalina ferry looms right in front of them.
Shit fuck piss!
They almost make it.
As it is, they avoid a head-on. Instead, they hit
A sickening CRUNCH -- !
Jimmy and Joe are thrown from their feet.
A momentary glimpse of faces rushing past -- Horrified
tourists -- And then the ferry is behind them.
Jimmy gets up. Staggers to the controls.
Pushes the throttle. The boat lurches forward --
Then SPUTTERS. Fizzles.
He swears violently.
We're on half power, we lost an
EXT. FOG BANK - SAME TIME
The crippled boat chugs through the mist.
swears again. Bangs his fist.
We're sitting ducks. They got
sonar. They can find us.
Kill the running lights and radio
the Coast Guard.
Jimmy flicks off the lights. Grabs the mike. As he
does, a VIBRATING RUMBLE fills the cockpit, causing him
to pause... and then stare in shock as their boat emerges
from the fog --
And Air One hovers directly overhead.
The two men watch, helpless, as the helicopter descends,
the Co-Pilot taking aim with a LAWS rocket.
They both hit the floor. Hands over their heads --
And then the pilot makes a costly error:
He descends right into the path of Milo's yacht.
With no warning whatsoever, the boat comes bursting out
of the fog --
PLOWS right INTO the HELICOPTER.
Second number one: The boat pierces the chopper, rips it
Second number two: The whole boat-slash-chopper mix
erupts in a shower of wood and fiberglass. Turns night
JIMMY AND JOE
are still huddled on the floor.
Pause. They look up. Bewildered.
There was a big light... Big noise...
Why aren't they dead?
They move like sleepwalkers to the cockpit window.
Stare in disbelief. Joe looks at Jimmy. Jimmy at Joe.
Debris rains down.
EXT. CRASH SITE - MINUTES LATER
Jimmy, Joe and Darian are on deck, chugging through the
wreckage. Darian clings to her father's arm, in shock.
Hallenbeck sees something in the distance. Squints:
Jimmy looks: A bright object... going in circles...
That's Baynard's boat!
It can get us to shore faster than
this one, don't you think?
He starts to turn away. Notices something in the water.
Speaks over his shoulder to Jimmy.
Hand me the pole.
Jimmy hands him a long, wooden pole with a hooked end.
He fishes in the water. Snares a large, floating object.
Swings it aboard. Drops it at Jimmy's feet.
What is it?
He turns away. Jimmy bends to open the suitcase.
Joe heads into the cockpit, Darian beside him.
Steers the boat away from the crash site. Toward the
senator's boat. Chugs forward on half an engine.
O.S., Jimmy suddenly yells:
Holy fucking shit!!
EXT. BAYNARD'S BOAT - SAME TIME
The once-mighty Marlineer runs aimless circles in the
mist. Half the cockpit is blown away, probably by a LAWS
The Hatteras pulls up alongside, and Hallenbeck steps to
the rail, carrying the Baretta.
He swings aboard the senator's boat.
Gun cocked. Ready.
INT. SENATOR'S BOAT - COCKPIT
Enters the cockpit. What's left of the roof is bullet-
The navigator is dead. Slumped over the controls.
Joe pulls him off the panel. KILLS the ENGINE.
INT. MAIN CABIN
Joe bursts inside. Hard and fast. Gun leveled.
No need. It's a slaughterhouse.
The walls are perforated. Baynard and his men are dead.
The suitcase's evil twin lies unopened on the table.
Hallenbeck walks over to Baynard's lifeless body.
Stares into the wide-open eyes.
Sorry, Cal. Life in the big city.
EXT. LONG BEACH BOAT RENTALS - NIGHT
The senator's boat pulls up to the dock. No one is
EXT. DOCK - SAME TIME
Hallenbeck crouches next to Darian, looks her in the eye.
Listen carefully. I'm gonna go
get your mom back, okay? You're
gonna go in the Denny's restaurant
and stay there. Talk to the
waitress but don't mention me.
Mom and I will come pick you up
later, got it?
They're gonna kill you...!
Are you kidding? I do this for a
(hands her a twenty)
Buy me an ice cream. I'll be back.
I love you.
She throws her arms around him.
INT. RENTAL SUBARU - DRIVING - NIGHT
All business now. Deadly serious.
Jimmy and Joe stare ahead through the windshield. Grim.
In the back seat sits the coveted suitcase.
Your prints are all over that
boat. What happens when they find
the bodies inside?
Quit being a fuckin' killjoy.
He cuts the headlights. Cruises to a stop behind a road-
Come on. We've got some things to
EXT. HALLENBECK'S HOUSE (WEST L.A.) - NIGHT
They creep across a suburban lawn, hugging the shadows.
Across the street, Hallenbeck's house is dark. Deserted.
Truly a sight: Jimmy, in a white shirt and tuxedo pants,
nursing a broken arm; and Joe, drenched to the skin,
pants hanging in scorched tatters.
Joe suddenly puts up a restraining hand. They stop.
Crouched behind a eucalyptus tree. Joe points:
A late-model Buick is parked just up the street from his
There is a man slouched inside. Smoking.
BACK TO SCENE
Shit. Someone's staking me out.
(clears his throat)
Oh, I forgot to tell you. The
police want you for killing Mike
Hallenbeck shoots him a withering look.
EXT. COASTAL WATERS - NIGHT
A Coast Guard cutter is circling the site of the boat/
chopper crash. A uniformed ENSIGN shines a light on the
I think I got someone! Four
is draped over a piece of wooden wreckage.
Half his hair is burned away. His face is blistered.
He looks up, pleading, at the Ensign, as:
He hides the Ingram beneath his body, cocked and ready.
INT. PARKED BUICK - NIGHT
The sour stakeout cop reaches for a job necessity: the
pot to piss in. He undoes his fly. Pees into an old
Maxwell House coffee can.
Opens the door to dump it out.
A hand reaches in, lightning quick.
Grabs the can, throws it back in his face.
As he jerks backward, blinded, the hand knocks him cold.
EXT. BUICK - SAME TIME
Hallenbeck drags the unconscious cop from the car.
Let's get him inside and tie him
Are you crazy? That's a cop! You
don't punch cops!
I forgot. Hurry up.
INT. HALLENBECK'S BEDROOM - MINUTES LATER
The cop is bound and gagged in the corner. Unconscious.
Hallenbeck moves hurriedly. Not a second to waste.
Pulls a dark turtleneck from a drawer.
Rips off the sleeve. Throws it to Jimmy.
He strips off his own shirt. Crosses to the closet.
You know how to use a gun?
The trigger's the little black
He hands Jimmy a shotgun and a box of odd, black
Use these. They're shredders.
Equipped with an explosive charge.
When you fire the gun, they spray
on impact. Take out anything
within ten yards.
What are you gonna use?
A little souvenir...
He reaches into the closet. Pulls out a sniper rifle.
The rifle. The one responsible for the puckered scar on
Go bring the car around.
EXT. HALLENBECK'S HOUSE - SAME TIME
Jimmy emerges, starts across the lawn.
Pulls up short. Stares ahead at:
HIS POV - TWO BLACK SEDANS
parked at the curb.
BACK TO SCENE
He starts to cry out --
And a dark figure looms behind him.
Clubs him in the head.
INT. HALLENBECK'S BEDROOM - SAME TIME
Hallenbeck snaps a full magazine into the rifle.
Stuffs extras into a black Windbreaker.
Hears a NOISE. Looks up, expecting Jimmy --
Draws a sharp breath:
PABLO AND ASSORTED GOONS
standing in the doorway. All of them have guns.
Pablo grins, shakes his head:
Face it, pal. You're fucked by
PAD AND PAPER
as they're placed in front of Hallenbeck.
He is seated on the bed. Three guns covering him.
Beside him sits Furry Tom, grinning his stuffed-toy grin.
Are you a literate man, Joe?
I got a subscription to Jugs
That's good. See, Joe, what
you're gonna do, you're gonna
write a little story.
A GOON sticks his head in the door.
We've got Jimmy Dix in the trunk.
Get him out of here. Take him to
Mr. Marcon. I'll follow you as
soon as my business here is
The Goon departs, leaving Hallenbeck with Pablo and two
others. He studies them. Calculates the odds. Verdict:
Yeah, you're gonna write a little
story, Joe. About how guilt-
stricken you are over Senator
Baynard's death, which is all
over the air waves, by the way.
Yeah... you're so guilty about
paying those hitmen to kill him,
that you're gonna kill yourself.
Hey, who's writing this story?
You're doing all the good parts.
Oh, and, Joe...? Don't forget to
include how guilty you are over
that cop you murdered.
Pablo draws his pistol.
PUMPS TWO SHOTS into the unconscious cop in the corner.
You son of a bitch...!
Pablo is making a big mistake, but he doesn't know it.
He is fueling Joe Hallenbeck's rage.
Pity the fool.
Hallenbeck regards him with dead, lifeless eyes.
A thoroughly unnerving stare.
Then Joe does something very odd.
He says, softly:
We don't like Pablo very much, do
we, Furry Tom...?
There is a pause... And then, incredibly -- Furry Tom
answers. A high-pitched, squeaky stuffed cat voice.
(as Furry Tom)
No, Mr. Hallenbeck, we think Pablo
is a motherless fuck who takes it
up the ass.
Dead silence. Pablo is completely thrown; so are we, for
that matter... and then it hits us: Joe is doing ven-
And the funny thing is, he's really good.
Pablo overcomes his shock.
Shit, is he doing that?
Hallenbeck's face remains cold. Expressionless.
Furry Tom, tell Pablo what I'm
gonna do to him.
(as Furry Tom)
You're gong to make Pablo eat all
his teeth, Mr. Hallenbeck.
Pablo can't help it. He bursts out laughing.
That's amazing, man!
Hallenbeck picks up Furry Tom. Inserts his hand, makes
the furry head bob back and forth.
(as Furry Tom)
Hey, Mr. Hallenbeck, they're
laughin' at me. That's not very
By now, all three hoods are in hysterics.
Are you mad, Furry Tom?
(as Furry Tom)
I don't get mad. I get even.
And, with that, Furry Tom's mouth opens --
And EXPLODES, showering stuffing.
One of the goons is still laughing when he realizes half
his throat is gone...
And Furry Thomas BELCHES FIRE again, and the second goon
goes down in a spray of blood, and if you haven't guessed
Joe has a gun hidden inside Furry Thomas.
Pablo is a little sharper. A little quicker.
He dives forward, knocks the puppet from Joe's hand.
Joe drives upward, into Pablo's gut.
They reel across the room. Locked in combat.
Lamps topple. GLASS BREAKS.
Pablo slams Joe's head into the wall. Leaves a dent.
Does it again, a sickening impact...
Starts to strangle Joe --
And the truth is, Joe's not thirty anymore.
He's not going to make it. The world swims away.
Then, as if through a tunnel, Joe notices something
beside him... something hanging on the wall.
Fights to focus. Breath gone. Strength gone.
Identifies the object:
His Presidential Medal of Valor.
Shiny medal. Shiny ribbon. His name...
It hits him quite suddenly:
The medal has sharp edges.
With the last of his strength, he plucks it from the
wall. Drives it into Pablo's throat.
The big man stumbles backward. Eyes wide. Gurgling.
He thrashes, the red-white-blue ribbon flapping obscenely
from his gushing neck.
Drops to the dusty carpet. Dies.
Hallenbeck takes a deep breath. Eyes wide. Insane.
He is surrounded by corpses. He takes another deep
Picks up the sniper rifle.
Slings it over his shoulder.
Heads for the door.
INT. CONRAD MARCON'S LIVING ROOM - NIGHT
Jimmy Dix is on the floor, and Marcon is kicking him
savagely. Pointed alligator boots lashing out. Again
You know I don't enjoy doin' this,
Jimmy curls up in a fetal ball. Marcon paces, shaking
I remember how much you hated the
pain... You got hooked on Demerol,
didn't you...? I'll make a deal
with you. Tell me who you talked
to, and I'll give you all the
painkillers you can swallow.
Nobody knows. Just... just me...
Now, see, I'd love to believe you.
But we are talking about the
future of my football team.
He crosses to the fireplace. Removes a poker.
And ain't nothin' more important
than my ball club, 'cept maybe my
collection of autographed
footballs. Got one of yours, you
Who'd you talk to, Jimmy?
Marcon raises the poker.
Brings it down on Jimmy's broken arm.
EXT. HOLLYWOOD HILLS - NIGHT
Hallenbeck leaves the rented Subaru by the side of the
He is dressed in combat black. Government issue.
Rifle over one shoulder. Hunting knife in a hip
Like an angel of death, he moves into the brush.
Heading down the canyon.
EXT. MARCON'S HOME - SAME TIME
An armed sentry patrols the grounds.
Below him, nighttime L.A. stretches to the Pacific.
Joe Hallenbeck emerges like a wraith from the trees.
Clamps a gloved hand over the sentry's mouth.
Drives the hunting knife into his back.
INT. LIVING ROOM - SAME TIME
Marcon stirs the fireplace logs, stoking the blaze.
Replaces the poker. Crosses to his desk and sits.
Jimmy is on the carpet, delirious. Out of it.
Marcon presses a button. An armed HARDGUY appears.
He's nothing, he can't hurt us.
Take him somewhere and kill him.
The Hardguy crosses the room. Grips Jimmy by the
With a soft SPIT of sound, his forehead blooms crimson.
He collapses, lifeless.
At his desk, Marcon whirls, stunned, as:
steps through the French doors behind him.
He resembles nothing human. A demon in black.
Eyes burning. Gun held loosely. An extension of his
Marcon reaches for the button to summon help.
He jams the rifle barrel into Marcon's throat, nearly
crushing his larynx. Hisses:
The gun is silenced, I'll fuckin'
kill you. Where's my wife?
I... I don't remember, I...
Joe shoves on the gun. The barrel chokes him.
Grabs a pen. Shoves it in Marcon's hand.
The address. Now!
It's... Milo's film studio...
Write it down, dumbfuck.
He speaks over his shoulder:
Jimmy, you okay...?
Hurts like hell.
Marcon finishes writing. Hallenbeck snatches up the
address. Stows it in his pocket.
Okay, Connie, you're gonna walk us
out of here, nice and easy, got
Can you walk, Jimmy?
Yeah... I think so -- Joe, behind
Too late. A revolver is cocked a foot from Joe's head.
It's the same odd voice we heard earlier.
The man with the speech impediment.
You drop it, asshole, or I kill
The Strange Man chuckles.
Sorry, but that won't work. I
don't care if he lives or dies,
now drop the gun.
A pause. Once more, Joe calculates the odds. No dice.
He places the rifle on the desk.
Walk over there by your friend,
Hallenbeck turns around... and, for once, his jaw drops.
He's looking at a man he never thought he'd see again. A
man who suffers from facial paralysis ever since his head
bounced off the Georgetown turnpike eight years ago.
Son of the late senator. The right side of his face
doesn't quite match the left. The muscles don't work.
Hallenbeck recovers his composure. As Jimmy climbs to
his feet, Joe walks over and stands next to him. Two
gunmen appear behind them, covering the rear.
Well, Goddamn. How's the head,
BAYNARD (STRANGE MAN)
Aside from permanent facial
neuralgia, just lovely.
Next time, Lou, just say no.
Shit. This is the drunk guy you
slugged, look what you did to his
Marcon, meanwhile, is positively livid. He snaps at
You son of a bitch, you were gonna
let him kill me!
Nothing more or less than you'd do
for me, Conrad.
I never thought I'd see you again,
Speaking of which, what the fuck
are you doing here?
Call it a financial partnership.
For a price, I agreed to connect
Mr. Marcon to the necessary
people in Washington.
In other words, you dropped your
father's name a bunch of times.
But imagine my delight this morning,
Joe, when Mr. Marcon informed me
of a golden opportunity: a chance
to kill my father and frame you for
the crime... What can I say,
inherit a fortune and humiliate you
in the bargain, who could resist?
Do I also have you to thank for
dragging me into this mess?
It was I, unfortunately, who
bought a forty-dollar bottle of
champagne... spoke a little too
freely to that hooker.
She wasn't a hooker, dickhead.
He should know, Jimmy. With a
face like that, he's gotta be
paying for it.
You can die fast or slow, so watch
Jimmy chimes in:
We'd rather watch yours. It's
Marcon has had enough. He pounds his fist on the desk.
Kill them, Goddammit, waste 'em
Any bright ideas, Joe?
Gimmee a minute.
Excuse me, could you give him a
minute? He's trying to think of
a way out of this.
Behind them, the two hardguys COCK their GUNS.
Jimmy sweats. He's scared shitless underneath.
Hallenbeck clears his throat:
You know of course, Connie, that
you're a dead man.
Marcon holds up his hand.
The gunmen lower their weapons.
Let's humor this asshole. What
are you talking about?
Nothing much, just that I made a
phone call from the boat on the
You called the cops? Fuck it,
they can't prove a thing.
Oh, but I didn't call the cops. I
called the mob.
Marcon stares at him. Blinks.
See, Connie, every year, the mob
rakes in two and a half billion
from football bookmaking. If you
succeed in making gambling legal,
all that money goes to the
I wouldn't be surprised if they
put out a contract on you. Of
course, I might be able to call it
Marcon stares him down. A pause. Then Marcon smiles:
He's bluffing. He's not connected
to the mob, what a load of
horseshit. Nice try, asshole.
(waves his hand)
Then there's the matter of two
million dollars. Or didn't you
know that watertight suitcases
He once again looks Marcon in the eye.
I've got your money, Connie.
Stashed in the back of a rented
Subaru. We'll take you to it.
Jesus, I don't believe it. This
guy's a riot.
I don't think it's working, Joe.
Try another one.
Hell, I'm fresh out. You wanna
try one, kid, go for it.
A pause. Then, without warning, Jimmy turns --
And slugs Hallenbeck with his good arm. Decks him.
Fuck you, Joe, I'm not just gonna
stand here and die. Mr. Marcon,
he's lying. We do have the money,
but it's not in a car, it's in a
storage locker. I have the key on
me. I'l hand it over if you let
Hallenbeck stares in disbelief.
The kid's actually trying something.
Where is the key, Jimmy?
It's stashed in my shorts.
All right. Slow and easy.
Sure. Slow and easy.
Jimmy reaches inside his jeans. Slowly, cautiously pulls
something out, concealed in his fist.
We see, but Marcon doesn't:
It's a shredder shell. He holds it in his fist.
Promise you'll let me go.
Hell with that, son. Hand it over
or I'll have you kneecapped.
Oh, yeah? Well, that's too bad.
See, it's one of those new plastic
keys. The kind that melt...?
And, with that, he hurls it into the fire.
So fast that nobody can see just what he threw.
I guess nobody gets the money.
The two hardguys rush to the fireplace.
Pull it out of there!
One of them grabs a pair of tongs --
and the SHREDDER EXPLODES.
Sprays the two hardguys. Cuts them to ribbons.
Then, several things happen at once:
Everybody goes for a gun.
Hallenbeck lunges, scoops up a fallen pistol --
As Marcon draws his GUN and FIRES, missing --
Joe RETURNS FIRE, BAM-BAM -- !
Catches Marcon in the shoulder, and meanwhile --
Baynard draws down on Jimmy, who picks up a flaming log
and hurls it, knocks the SHOT wild, as:
Marcon darts out the French doors, into the night, so
Hallenbeck spins, FIRES at Baynard --
Blows him backward in a bloody spray. Baynard sags
against the mantel. Collapses, dead.
ECHOES. Silence. Jimmy and Joe are alone with three
Jimmy snatches up a pistol. Joe slings the sniper rifle
over his shoulder. Stares at Jimmy:
Plastic keys...? The kind that
Hey. Short notice, best I could
You did fine, junior.
Learned it from a pro. Come on.
EXT. MARCON'S HOUSE - NIGHT
The wooden garage DOORS EXPLODE outward, bursting to
splinters, as a Ford BRONCO DRIVES right THROUGH them,
Conrad Marcon at the wheel. He careens off into the
night. Makes a getaway.
INT. GARAGE - SAME TIME
Jimmy and Joe come racing out of the house, just in time
to see Marcon's taillights disappearing up the canyon.
Son of a bitch!
Forget about him. Let's get my
He crosses to a parked Mercedes. SHOOTS open the door.
Gets in. Pops the ignition package. Hotwires it.
The CAR ROARS to life.
He's so slick, it's scary.
EXT. MARCON'S HOUSE - SAME TIME
The Mercedes barrels out through the splintered garage
doors. BURNS RUBBER down the hill.
INT. CAR - DRIVING
They stare straight ahead. Tense. Breathless.
On my way, honey, on my way...
EXT. HOLLYWOOD HILLS - NIGHT
Conrad Marcon, meanwhile, is rocketing along the winding
road, heading up the canyon, when he sees something
HIS POV - JOE'S RENTAL SUBARU
sitting abandoned in the roadside brush.
BACK TO SCENE
Acting on a sudden hunch, he SLAMS ON the BRAKES.
Stops the car. Gets out, crosses to the rental. Peeks
A two-million-dollar suitcase sits, pretty as punch, on
the back seat.
Shit, Joe Boy, you wasn't
He draws his gun. Blows out the glass.
Reaches in. Opens the car door.
Snatches up the briefcase.
EXT. DOWNTOWN HOLLYWOOD - NIGHT
A block of seedy-looking brick buildings. Off Sunset.
Not many people at this hour.
slews around the corner races down the street, running
Lurches to a halt near the mouth of an alley.
Jimmy and Joe burst from the car, guns in hand.
Hellenbeck is grim, purposeful. Jimmy is nervous.
I'm new at this, Joe. How do we
We get in, we get out. Shoot
anyone who's not my wife. Check
that: Don't shoot me.
He jacks a fresh clip into his rifle.
inserted in the latch of a back door.
Hallenback finds the tumblers. Springs the lock in
INT. HALLWAY - NIGHT
Jimmy and Joe. Side by side. Walking. Expressionless.
They round a bend in the hall.
seated outside a wooden door. .38 special in a shoulder
rig. Sees them, leaps to his feet, gun clearing
Joe blows him out of his socks.
TWO-SHOT BURST. Silenced.
Guy hits the wall. Paints it with blood. Flops, dead.
Jimmy and Joe step over him.
Joe braces himself. Draws back his foot. Kicks the
INT. STUDIO - SAME TIME
The door flies open. Doesn't hit the wall.
Something stops it.
Joe doesn't blink. He puts the rifle against the panel.
FIRES three SHOTS through the wood.
A body falls out from behind the door.
Joe doesn't even look.
The body sits up. Not dead yet...
Jimmy comes through the door. SHOOTS him.
One more door to go. Thick. Soundproofed metal.
It isn't locked. Joe yanks it open. Steps inside.
Lights. Camera. The wrong kind of action.
on a bed, naked.
bright lights on her. Around her, a director. A
with a chainsaw.
and he's standing right over her.
Jimmy BLOWS down the two artistes.
Joe takes the actor.
He throws the hunting knife. It pierces the guy's neck.
The chainsaw clatters to the floor.
He does the funny little dance peculiar to those with
pierced necks. Falls. Dies.
And then, mercifully, it's over. Joe crosses to the bed,
puts out an arm, and Sarah collapses against him, shaking
He strokes her hair. Speaking softly. Quietly.
Speaking to the only woman he's ever loved:
I'm here... it's all right...
He cradles his wife in the middle of a slaughterhouse.
EXT. SIDEWALK - NIGHT
Sarah is now dressed, as Joe supports her across the
sidewalk toward the stolen Mercedes.
He turns to Jimmy. Hands him a set of keys.
Drive one of their cars. They
won't be needing them.
Where do you want me to go?
The two million bucks is still in
the Subaru. Parked on Mulholland
above Marcon's house. Go pick it
up and bring it to the office.
We're gonna go get Darian.
He moves off into the parking lot.
Hallenbeck says to Sarah.
I'll take you and Darian to the
office. You can sleep there.
Why can't we go home?
There's four corpses in the bedroom.
It's a very tiny "oh."
ESTABLISHING SHOT - JOE'S OFFICE
in the shadow of the freeway. The night wears on. From
the billboard, Gorgeous continues to entice.
INT. HALLENBECK'S OFFICE - SAME TIME
Darian is asleep, cradled in her mother's arms.
Her mother is awake, cradled in Joe's arms.
Jimmy should be here any minute.
Then we gotta talk to the cops.
Sarah nestles into the crook of his arm.
Will the police catch Marcon?
Maybe. He's probably in some
secret crash pad, packing to leave
A pause, then Sarah says:
I remember when we got married...
My friends would talk about their
husbands. They'd say, 'Oh, my
husband is a big-time publisher,'
or, 'My husband is a brilliant
lawyer...' I used to say, 'My
husband can stand over a shotgun
victim and eat a ham sandwich
Don't knock it. It's a skill.
She turns. Looks into his eyes.
I want to try, Joe. Do you still
want to try?
A pause. He leans in and kisses her tenderly.
And, with typically swell timing, a set of headlights
rakes across the window, accompanied by the strobing
light of a police flasher.
Ahh, shit. Looks like the local
constable has come to chat.
Shall we invite him in?
No. Stay here. I'll deal with
He gets up, throws on a jacket.
EXT. JOE'S OFFICE - NIGHT
Joe exits the office, starts across the lawn toward the
vehicle with the flashing light.
Realizes with a sudden shock: something's wrong.
That's not L.A.P.D....
the insignia on the door panel reads LONG BEACH SHORE
In the same glance, he sees there's a dead cop slumped in
the passenger seat, and worse, much worse than that:
Milo is in the driver's seat.
Milo, who steps out of the car and promptly OPENS FIRE on
Son of a bitch!
He dives for cover, the turf erupting all around him, as:
INT. OFFICE - SAME
Sarah sits bolt upright. Eyes panicked. Terrified.
Darian comes awake, screaming:
Mommy, what's happening?
Sarah leaps off the couch, cradling Darian and
EXT. OFFICE - SAME
Hallenbeck spins behind one of the billboard support
legs, as BULLETS CHOP it to splinters.
changing clips. Methodical. Precise.
Like a robot.
He is obsessed. All vestige of sanity gone.
You fucked up my face, Joseph!
Joe starts to climb. Scales the wooden structure.
Swings himself onto the raised platform.
Flattens behind the billboard.
Don't try to hide, Joseph. I've
got all night, you fucked up my
He sprays a BURST of GUNFIRE up at the billboard.
huddles behind the billboard as the bullets stitch
upward. Through the wooden frame.
A hot SLUG RIPS through Joe's arm.
An eruption of blood. He hisses in pain.
Rolls away from the gunfire.
Looks around. Desperate.
Sees a painter's bucket lying nearby.
He counts to three.
Milo calmly changes clips.
Hallenbeck bursts from cover.
Hurls the bucket down at Milo, dashes across the front of
the billboard, hard and fast --
BULLETS CHOPPING the board right behind him, blowing
holes in Gorgeous's derrierre --
And then Joe does a risky thing:
He sprints to the end of the billboard, running full
tilt, and he leaps out into space, what the hell is he
He's trying to make the freeway.
It's a good fifteen feet. Try it sometime.
He flies through open air --
Milo's GUN CHATTERING below, seeking him out --
And just does make it.
Hits the freeway surface and collapses forward, screaming
as he rolls on his injured arm... Looks up --
EIGHTEEN WHEEL TRUCK
is headed straight for him, bearing down...!
He rolls aside just in time. It THUNDERS past.
Staggers to his feet, frantic --
and Milo is climbing the billboard.
Hallenbeck looks for a place to hide.
There isn't any.
He's going to have to run through traffic.
He shifts from foot to foot, searching for an opening,
and meanwhile --
INT. SUBARU - DRIVING
Jimmy Dix is actually on the freeway, driving, when he
looks across the center divider and sees Hallenbeck.
I don't fucking believe it.
He swerves over to the side and meanwhile
watches in dismay as Milo climbs onto the platform...
Walks across the front of the billboard.
Toward the freeway. Toward Joe. Snarling.
Joe grabs a broken bottle off the ground. Heaves it.
Milo puts up an arm, catches a glancing blow. Blood
flows. All it does is piss him off.
You ruined my flesh!
Hallenbeck dives flat to the road as Milo opens up again,
a chattering BURST of GUNFIRE. The muzzle flash is
The windshield of a passing car SHATTERS -- The driver
panics, the car spins out of control --
Slews across the road in the middle of traffic.
COLLISIONS. CRUMPLING METAL. EXPLOSIONS of GLASS.
slides straight toward Hallenbeck.
He dives aside, rolls to his feet --
And he's right in Milo's sights.
My friends, the fat lady just sang.
Except another lady says different:
A single GUNSHOT SPLITS the air.
Milo's chest explodes with bubbling blood.
He shrieks. Turns, staring in disbelief at
below, on the lawn. She aims Joe's service revolver and
You just fucking die.
She FIRES again, and Milo reels backward.
Leaves a bloody smudge on the billboard.
She DROPS the HAMMER again and again. Empties the gun.
Milo jerks and twitches. Racked by gunfire.
Paints a bloody stripe across the billboard, making
Gorgeous's bloody buns even bloodier --
Clutches himself. Looks over at Hallenbeck.
She's something, isn't she?
Milo pitches forward. Falls to his death.
stares, dumbfounded at Sarah. She look up at him.
A moment passes between them.
Around Hallenbeck, a sea of crumpled cars. HORNS
BLARING. Amidst it all, he stands. Beaten. Bloody.
Jimmy winds his way through the cars. Walks up to Joe.
They stand in silence for a moment, then Jimmy says:
The car's over on the other side.
C'mere, I want to show you
EXT. 405 FREEWAY - SOUTHBOUND LANE - NIGHT
Jimmy and Joe stand in the breakdown lane next to the
rented Subaru. Jimmy points to the shattered window.
Somebody broke in and swiped the
suitcase from the back seat. Had
to be Marcon, right?
There is a pause. They both stare at the car.
Two million. Down the drain.
Except, after a beat... they begin to laugh.
First chuckling, then chortling..
Now it's go-for-broke. Jimmy hoots. Joe howls.
Jimmy pulls out a key and opens the trunk --
You can guess what's inside.
Son of a bitch got the wrong one!
on the dresser of a fancy penthouse suite.
Signed by Joe Montana, no less.
bustles back and forth, shoves the last of his needed
possessions into a travel bag. Hefts it. Puts it near
Crosses to the bed, where the other suitcase lies.
Looks at it. Smiles, contented.
Can't help himself. He reaches out. Flicks the latch.
There is a note taped to the inside:
EXT. DOWNTOWN SKYSCRAPER - 32ND FLOOR - NIGHT
Marcon's flaming corpse is BLOWN OUT through the glass,
along with his earthly possessions. He plummets like a
EAST L.A. SIDESTREET - NIGHT
Two ten-year-old black boys are walking down the street.
Out strolling in the poverty that exists in the shadow of
Quite suddenly, without warning --
A football drops out of the sky.
Hits and bounces, very high --
Comes down. Settles. Rocks, back and forth.
The kids look up, puzzled. Searching the sky.
The ball sits there. Only slightly scorched.
Tentatively, almost like he's afraid of being caught,
one of the boys bends down... looks both ways...
Picks up the ball. Smiles.
Then, as if by some unspoken agreement --
The other boy starts to run.
Slowly at first, then faster... faster still...
A slant pattern, heading for the mailbox...
And at 12 midnight on December 22nd, the San Pedro Street
quarterback throws an absolutely perfect pass.
Their laughter is joyful. Innocent. Fervid.
They will grow up to be sports heroes.
INT. BESSALO'S OFFICE - L.A.P.D. - MORNING
Hallenbeck sits impassively while Bessalo paces, fuming.
You got a lot of questions to
You'll probably lose your license.
Bessalo glares at him.
Do you care?
My wife loves me.
Bessalo looks at him like he's grown a tail.
ESTABLISHING SHOT - JOE'S OFFICE - UNDER THE FREEWAY
Another blistering hot December day.
Gorgeous looks on from her perch, cheerful as ever,
despite the crusted brown stripe on her ass.
INT. HALLENBECK'S OFFICE - DAY
The suitcase sits on a table. Jimmy and Joe contemplate
it over a bottle of Seagrams V.O.
(clears his throat)
You gonna keep it?
Some of it.
Hallenbeck frowns. Opens the case. Reaches in --
And plucks out two crisp $100 bills. Stuffs them in a
pocket. Jimmy stares at him.
He shuts the case. Shoves it toward Jimmy.
Jimmy leans forward, eyeing the suitcase.
Shit, Joe... I got all the money
He shoves it back into the center. Joe nods.
I'm thinkin' I could use a partner.
Think you could handle that for
I maybe could handle that. For
He pours a drink. Raises his glass on high:
Alex the detective.
INT. CANCER RESEARCH CENTER - DAY
A uniformed man is emptying the PLEASE GIVE jar when he
notices a suitcase lying against the wall. Under a
poster that says THE GOAL: A CURE IN OUR LIFETIME.
He bends down. Opens the suitcase.
When the money is counted, there will be $1,999,800.
A note is taped to the inside:
SO HURRY UP ALREADY
EXT. PALM-LINED L.A. STREET - DAY
Jimmy and Joe walk side by side. Away from us. Slightly
drunk. Palms wave lazily. A sweaty Santa rings a bell.
See, Jim, the thing is, life sucks.
But you still can't be hangin'
around Satan Claus, you know why...?
'Cause someday, compadre... Satan
Claus and Santa Claus are gonna
have a big fight, and you know
Santa's gonna kick some royal ass.
He puts a fatherly arm around Jimmy's shoulder, grins:
Hey. Smile, you fuck.
Last Boy Scout, The
Writers : Shane Black
Genres : Action Thriller